The Laws of Attraction
by cr8vgrl
Summary: The marriage law had been written. George hated his choice. However, his hate could cost the life of the one destined to be his soulmate. Could the bonding of souls truly kill someone? Apparently.
1. Her Name is Nicolette

**A/N: This is the poll winner as well as a gift for Preetoaka Raven Potter Weasley since she's had trouble finding good George fics. I hope you enjoy this and that it lives up to your expectations!! Remember: I own nothing!**

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He was mad. He was _beyond_ mad. He was furious. Was there a word for being beyond furious? If there was, then he, George Weasley, was it. He had always thought that people who claimed to "see red" when they were angry were simply being overdramatic, but now, he could definitely understand the expression. How could they do this to him? Oh! He wished that he could surround the entire Ministry of Magic with a cruciatus curse. Was that even possible? He would check into that at the soonest possible moment.

"It _isn't_ possible, and the Ministry probably has thousands of wards to protect them from an attack. Come on Forge! We're some of the most cunning wizards, but even _we_ aren't that good!"

George looked up at his twin brother, Fred, startled. He hadn't realized that he had murmured the last part out loud. The letter in his hands dropped idly to the floor, fluttering longer than necessary on its way there, as though it wanted to remind him for as long as possible of the duties that stupid paper tied him to.

"Are you sure we can't try?" he asked, semi-teasingly, his normally sparkling eyes conveying a sense of loneliness and despair. "Am I supposed to just accept this?"

"George," Fred said, slightly surprised by his normally-congenial twin's response. "You're not the only one who's having trouble. I have to do the same thing too."

"But you didn't have a girlfriend!" George cried, slamming his hand down on the table. Fred jumped and then cringed, looking down at the parchment in front of him. "Who's going to be forced on you?" George asked.

"George," Fred hedged, "perhaps now's not the best time to talk about it. The law's so new and all-"

"Just tell me who you got," George ordered, his knuckles clenching the tabletop and turning white. Fred glanced down at the parchment and mumbled something that George could not quite understand. "What was that?" he asked. "I couldn't hear you."

Fred looked up at him, meeting his twin's eyes bravely, though the sadness and regret in those orbs was obvious. "Angelina," he said softly.

George's face paled. His girlfriend. The woman that he had been planning on proposing to. "Angie?" he whispered.

Fred nodded. "George, I'm so sorry. If there was something I could do to change it, I'd-"

George jumped up from his chair, his eyes blazing with something close to hatred, something that Fred had seen directed at people like Draco Malfoy, but never at him. "You'd what?" he challenged. "You'd trade me? You'd stop the Ministry from forcing us into this at all?" He slammed his hand down on the table, once again ignoring the smarting pain that the action ignited. "There's nothing you can do, Fred!" he yelled. "The Ministry's forced me away from my girlfriend. They're making me marry a _muggle_, Fred! A muggle!"

Fred stood as well. "George," he began.

"Do you know what kind of field day dad will have with her?" George continued irately, not listening to his brother. "Do you know how hard it's going to be to watch Angelina marry _you_? Do you-"

"Do you know how hard it's going to be to have to marry her?!" Fred yelled. George stopped in mid-tirade, astonished. "Do you know," Fred said, in a voice that wavered with emotion, "how hard it's going to be on her? Have you thought of that? Imagine what it's going to be like to sit across from you each Sunday and know that she's not yours. And the reason for that is because the Ministry thinks that they know everyone's perfect match. Did you ever think about it from her point of view?"

George shook his head, appearing slightly regretful. "No," he said slowly.

Fred went on as though he hadn't heard him. "I'm sorry, George, that the Ministry is enforcing this marriage law. I'm sorry that you're not being wed to Angelina, and I'm very sorry that she was given to me. But please, don't get yourself worked up over something you can't change." He placed a hand on George's shoulder. "Being angry will only make things worse."

"I can't help it," George growled angrily. "Why do Ginny and Harry get to stay with each other? Why does it have to be me?"

"And me," Fred pointed out.

George waved his hand dismissively. "You didn't have a girlfriend," he said, and a trace of his normal, teasing demeanor slipped through his shroud of anger. "You don't count."

"Good to know that I'm so loved," Fred told him dryly.

George shook his head. "I need to go lie down and think about this," he said.

Fred grasped him by the shoulder and said, "You need to go talk to Angelina."

George moved his shoulder away from his brother's touch. "After I lie down," he said. With that, he left the room and Fred heard the sound of footsteps ascending to the second floor of the Burrow before a door slammed and there was silence.

"Fred?" someone said.

Fred looked up to find Molly Weasley standing there in the doorway of the kitchen, looking concerned. "Hey, Mum," he greeted, giving her a forced smile.

"Is he alright?" Molly asked.

Fred shook his head. "He's angry. And I'm angry too. I just hide it better." He gave his mother a lopsided grin that melted away into another frown. "This is just hard on all of us. Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione are all so young to be forced to marry just because the Ministry decides that it needs more little witches and wizards running around. They're not even completely out of school!" He sighed. "It's harder on us, though, because George's girlfriend is now my fiancé."

Molly came forward and placed a loving hand on her son's shoulder. "I'll talk to George later," she promised. "First, I want to know the name of my new daughter-in-law."

Fred looked around for the paper that had fluttered to the floor and bent over to pick it up. For the second time today, the words of the Ministry popped out at him.

_The war is taking a hard toll on all of us in the wizarding community, and it is time that we begin to pick up the pieces and start over, despite the fact that You-Know-Who is still at large. That is why, with the help of Hogwarts Professor Albus Dumbledore, soul matches for each witch and wizard over the age of eighteen have been identified. Some matches are between witches and wizards, and others are between a wizard (and/or witch) and a muggle. The couples will have one week to meet and marry, and after that, they will be given one year to produce a child. Failure to comply will result in a life sentence in Azkaban._

_Mr. George Weasley, your soul match is: Miss Nicolette Tyndale._

_Status: Muggle_

Fred looked up at his mother, still processing the gravity of the situation. "Her name is Nicolette."

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**A/N: I really hope you all like this. Please review!!**


	2. Her Fiance

_**IMPORTANT:**_** I am so sorry to all of you! I was tired and wasn't thinking when I listed the main characters, and your reviews kinda slapped me! (In a good way!). This is NOT a George/Hermione fic, it is a George/OC fic. I really hope you keep reading, but I'm very sorry for the mix up. Shows you that I'm too used to writing about Hermione!**

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Nicolette stared at the paper in front of her, letting her fingers rub across the words thoughtfully. _You are to be married to Mr. George Weasley. Status: Wizard_

"I don't understand," she said for the fourth time, her cheeks heating up. She felt stupid. She felt incapable of understanding this, and she felt terrible.

"It's very difficult, I know," said the man sitting across from her, whose name was Albus Dumbledore. He smiled kindly at her and said, "This is all new, and quite sudden." He looked at Nicolette's parents and said, "I assure you, Nicolette will be well taken care of." He looked down at his hands in his lap for a moment before he added, "That is something that I cannot promise you if she was to refuse."

"But she's so young!" Nicolette's mother, Isabella Tyndale protested. Her husband nodded in agreement, his face white with a shock that had yet to wear off.

Dumbledore nodded. "So is the wizard she's marrying," he said. "Mr. Weasley is a fine young man, and as I said before, she'll be well looked after. The wizarding community is falling into shambles, and the Ministry, the one I told you about earlier, has decided to enforce this."

"What if she refuses?" Mr. Tyndale asked quietly.

Dumbledore turned and looked at the man for a long while, and Nicolette's father met his gaze. "She will be sent to Azkaban," Dumbledore said, "and if you want her to refuse, you should probably kill her. Azkaban is far worse than death."

The graveness of his tone sent a chill down Nicolette's spine, and she cringed as her father turned even paler and her mother let out a sob. It appeared she had no choice. She had to get married to this-she glanced down at the parchment in her lap-this George Weasley. Before anyone could scare her further with "What if's," she asked, "When do I have to leave?"

"Nicolette-" her mother protested.

"There's nothing that I can do about it," Nicolette said shortly, cutting her mother off before the dear woman actually talked her out of her decision. "I don't particularly want to die yet," she said, her mouth attempting to quirk into a weak smile. She looked up at the wizard in front of her and asked, "When do I need to be ready, and what do I need to take?"

Dumbledore smiled, admiring the courage that this small sprite of a girl was exemplifying. If she went through life like that, she'd definitely succeed. "We should probably leave today, and you won't need to take much. You're favorite clothes and some mementos should suffice."

Nicolette nodded and stood from her chair. "Give me a few minutes," she said.

Dumbledore nodded. "Of course," he said, and watched as she left the room. "Now, Mr. and Mrs. Tyndale, you're more than welcome to come to the wedding. I'll send your invitation by owl mail."

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Nicolette moved slowly up to her room, each step seeming to bring her closer to some fate that she had not willingly chosen. She was barely eighteen! Her birthday had only been a week ago! With a shake of her head, she moved into her bedroom and began to pack her things. As she reached for her favorite pair of jeans, she blinked back tears. She would _not_ cry, no matter how much she wanted to.

When she finished packing her clothes and a few pictures and books, she took one last look at her room and found that the sight made her stomach clench and the tears race to her eyes again, almost breaking down her resolve not to cry. With a firm grip on the doorknob, she shut the door and left her childhood room forever.

"I'm ready," she said once she had returned to the living room.

Dumbledore looked up at her and smiled. "Excellent," he said cheerily, and then noticed her bag. "Here, let me," he said, drawing out his wand and flicking it at the bag in Nicolette's hand. The bag shrunk before her eyes, and soon, it was small enough to put in her pocket. All Nicolette could do, however, was stare at the bag in shock. Dumbledore approached her and placed a gentle, almost fatherly hand on her shoulder and said, "There will be plenty of new things for you to learn," he told her kindly.

"I guess so," she said feebly, sliding the tiny bag into her pocket.

Dumbledore glanced back at her parents, who were standing side by side, holding hands in order to give unspoken comfort. "We must be off now," he said. "However, don't worry. You will all see each other in less than a week." He paused and then added, "There are only a very few muggles that have been chosen for this. It may not seem like it now, but your daughter is very special."

Mrs. Tyndale covered her mouth with one hand and then rushed forward and pulled her daughter into a fierce hug. "Of course she is. I love you," she said, stroking her daughter's hair.

Nicolette sniffed, remembering her resolve. "I love you too," she whispered. When her mother finally let go, Nicolette turned and hugged her father in the same manner. "I love you, daddy," she whispered, kissing him on the cheek.

"I love you too, sweetheart," he told her.

It was Nicolette who pulled away first. Knowing that if either one of them held onto her any longer, she would never leave, she detached herself from her father's embrace and took Dumbledore's hand. "I'm ready," she told him.

"Very well. This is going to feel strange," Dumbledore warned, "but just remember to breath and you should be fine."

Nicolette nodded, and then she felt a pulling sensation that had her stomach doing flip-flops. She felt like she was being pressed in on all sides, and the feeling scared her. She squeezed Dumbledore's hand tighter, but as soon as she did so, the bending, sucking sensation stopped and she heard Dumbledore chuckling. "You can open your eyes now."

Nicolette peeked her eyes open and found herself standing in a homey kitchen. She looked around, and her eyes widened when she noticed that the dishes were washing themselves. Her mouth dropped open and she stared, blinking every now and then to make sure that this was really happening. _The dishes were washing themselves!_

"It's a simple cleaning charm," said a voice behind her, and Nicolette whirled around to find a rather plump, matronly woman with fiery red hair standing in the doorway, smiling at her.

"It's…amazing," Nicolette stuttered, feeling suddenly shy. This must be her mother-in-law-to-be. Looking at her, Nicolette felt some of her uneasiness melt away. She didn't appear to be the terror of a woman that most people complained about their mother-in-laws being. No, she looked quite normal, and-dare she say it- sweet.

"Thank you. You must be Nicolette," said the woman. "I'm Molly Weasley and," she paused mid-sentence and then her round face broke into such a smile. "Oh! Never mind! Just let me hug you!" She stepped forward and pulled Nicolette into a bone-crushing hug that the younger girl found that she rather enjoyed.

"Pleased to," Nicolette responded, gasping for air, "meet you!"

Molly released her and held her back at arm's length, taking in Nicolette's smooth, pale skin and deep auburn hair. "Well, I'm very happy to have you here," she said, and Nicolette could tell that she was telling the truth. She smiled again and gave Nicolette's arm a little tug. "Come. Everyone's in the living room waiting to meet you!"

Nicolette looked back at Dumbledore for support, and he smiled widely, his eyes twinkling as he nodded. She let Molly lead her out into the living room and found ten pairs of eyes staring at her. Feeling completely overwhelmed, Nicolette took an unconscious step backward, and stepped right back into Mrs. Weasley. "Oh!" she exclaimed quietly.

"Don't worry, dear," Molly said, reaching down and squeezing Nicolette's hand reassuringly. She used her other hand to point to each person in succession. "That's my eldest son Bill and his wife, Fleur." One of the redheads waved cheerily, and the blonde sitting next to him nodded her head in Nicolette's direction. "And Hermione's next to her. Next is Charlie, and next to him is Ron, Ginny, and Harry." All of them, seated on the couch, smiled cheerily and waved.

"And lastly is, well, um," Molly stuttered, and Nicolette turned her attention to the two boys sitting next to each other in chairs. They looked almost exactly alike, right down to their long hair and identical smirks, and she could tell that they were twins.

The first one seemed to take pity on his mother and grinned, waving. "I'm Fred."

Nicolette smiled at the older boy, set a little more at easy by his easy manner. The second one was the one that caught her attention, though. He glanced up at her from his seat, and his eyes held an almost challenging look as he said in a deep voice, "I'm George."

George Weasley. Her fiancé.

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**A/N: For those of you that are still reading, I hope you liked it! LOL! Please review, and again, I'm really sorry. The mix-up is the reason that I haven't responded to the previous reviews. Thanks!!**


	3. Breaking Her Resolve

**A/N: Thank you to all of you that have stuck with me! I think I've finally ironed out all of the proverbial wrinkles, so it should be smooth sailing from now on! Enjoy!**

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Nicolette wasn't sure what to say. The look in George Weasley's eyes told her that she wasn't exactly welcome, and he was by no means pleased to meet her. How did one respond to something like that? "Hi," she said softly.

The whole room was silent as they watched George examine this newcomer. All of them were obviously curious about her, but she could tell by their glances that George had made it clear that he wasn't happy to have her here. Her fingers unconsciously picked at the seam of her jeans as she nervously waited for someone else to say something. Unable to hold George's piercing gaze, her eyes found the ornamental rug on the floor and studied the pattern intricately.

"Oh, _honestly_!" someone cried, and Nicolette's head came up, identifying the girl-Hermione, was it?- as the speaker, since she was the one quickly rising out of her seat. "She doesn't bite," she said sarcastically, moving over to stand in front of Nicolette. "And even if she did, we have Charlie here. I'm _sure_ that he could get her under control."

Charlie laughed, and Bill chuckled. "One would hope," the eldest Weasley snorted. "Otherwise, you might be out of a job, Charlie!"

Various degrees of laughter tittered around the living room, and Nicolette shifted uncomfortably. She didn't understand this joke. What did Hermione mean? It must have been obvious that she didn't understand because Hermione placed a careful hand on her shoulder. "Sorry," she apologized. "Charlie is a dragon tamer in Romania."

A dragon tamer. Nicolette's eyes flew back to the young man reclining on the couch. A dragon tamer. "There are real dragons?" she asked, awed, and then blushed, feeling stupid for asking. "Never mind."

Hermione seemed to understand. "No, don't be embarrassed," she said comfortingly. "This is all very new and strange for you. Dragons do exist, and they're wonderful creatures." She smiled. "While you're here, I'm sure Charlie would love to tell you all about them."

Charlie nodded and smiled kindly at Nicolette. "Absolutely."

Molly practically glowed as she watched Hermione interact with Nicolette. Ah yes, Hermione would be a good friend for her daughter-in-law to have. "Wonderful!" she exclaimed, and then bustled around the room. "Now, dinner should be ready in a couple of hours, so Nicolette, George will show you to your room, and then you're welcome to explore until then."

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George had been watching Nicolette carefully ever since she entered the room. His first impression of her was that she was very pretty. Her small frame and deep red hair had drawn his immediate attention, but then he had forced himself to look away. It was like cheating on Angelina just to look at this girl.

But Angelina was no longer his.

George shook his head, barely listening as his mother introduced everyone. When Fred waved cheerily, he felt anger well up inside of him. How could Fred act so calm, so happy, with this girl in the house? She was an outsider. She wasn't welcome.

"I'm George," he said, and his eyes glared up at the girl's. He couldn't even call her by name. Nicolette. Just as pretty as she was. No! He wouldn't. He couldn't let himself be attracted to her, not even physically. It just wasn't right, Angelina or no Angelina. This Nicolette girl had ruined his life.

And he was going to make sure that she knew it.

So when Hermione stepped up and befriended her, George nearly groaned. Hermione, he could tell, identified with this girl's open apprehension to their world. She understood what it was like to have things like dragons introduced as a simple part of daily conversation. Hermione, he realized, was going to make him toe the line.

"…George will show you to your room…" his mind locked on to that phrase issuing from his mother's lips, and he resisted another urge to scowl. She wasn't even trying to be subtle about pushing Nicolette his way.

He jumped when Fred pinched him hard. "Ow," he muttered angrily, rubbing his thigh and glaring at his brother.

Fred just nodded to where the rest of the family was waiting for him to get up and escort Nicolette to the room she would be staying in until they got married. Married. To her. Ugh. "Sorry," George said aloud, pulling himself up out of his chair. He strode over to Nicolette and was surprised to find that when he stood right in front of her, her head only reached the middle of his chest, unlike Angelina, who had been almost as tall as him. "Have you got your bag?" he asked.

Nicolette's face turned pink, and then red. "Um, yes," she managed, dipping her hand into the pocket of her jeans and pulling out the shrunken bag. "But I'm afraid that I don't know how to get it back. You know, to the right size."

George pulled out his wand without a word and flicked it at the bag, returning it to its proper size. "There," he said.

Nicolette smiled up at him. "Thank you," she replied, but her smile wavered when he didn't return her grin with one of his own.

"This way," was all he said as he led her out of the living room to the stairway and began to climb. He heard her dutifully following him, and he gritted his teeth. Already, he hated her. He hated the way that she was just so perfect. He hated the way that she looked at him, as though she was trying to find something, anything there in his expression that she could love.

He hated her because she was trying to make the best of the situation that she had been thrust into.

He made it to Ginny's room and pushed the door open. "In here," he said.

"Thank you." She moved inside and took in the small room where two beds and a cot had been squeezed in. "Which one is mine?"

"The cot." The words came out with a stinging bite, and George almost felt remorse over the way he was treating her. Almost.

"Perfect," she said with ease, setting her bag down on the cot's surface before she turned towards George and said softly, "I'm sorry, George, that it's me."

She was apologizing for having to marry him. He nodded and fixed her with a steely look that not many people had ever seen from the twins. "Me too," he said, turning towards the door.

Nicolette appeared surprised, but she nodded, as though she had not completely ruled out that this would be his reaction to her. "I know that you don't like me," she said, her tone hesitant and slightly hopeful as she stopped him in his tracks, "but perhaps, in time, we could come to enjoy each other's company." She shrugged. "Who knows? We might end up lo-"

George whirled on her so quickly that she took a step back. His eyes blazed with fury, and he had to consciously remind himself that she was a girl and that he was not allowed to hit her. His tone was cutting as he said, "Let me make this _very_ clear. I will _never_ love you! Not ever."

With that, he left her and strode back down the stairs. He never saw her sit down on the cot, and he never saw her break her vow.

He never saw her cry.

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**A/N: I hope you liked this, even though George is being a prat. Please review!! :D**


	4. Metaphorical Ripping

**A/N: Thank you to my couple of reviewers! Come on everyone else! lol! Enjoy!**

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When Molly asked her to pop upstairs and get Nicolette for dinner, Hermione had not expected to find the younger girl sobbing into her pillow. She found her curled up on her cot, her body wracked with nearly hysterical sobs. "Nicolette!" she cried, falling down next to the young muggle. "What's wrong?"

Another couple of sobs resounded through the room before Nicolette found the courage to raise her head and stare at her newfound friend. "E-everything," she sobbed, falling into Hermione's arms.

Hermione rocked back for a moment, surprised by the sudden weight that was pushed into her body. Then, she wrapped her arms around Nicolette and held her close. What had happened? George had seemed edgy when he had come downstairs, but then he had been a bit of a challenge all day. Had he said something to this poor girl? Ooh, she was going to kill him if he had!

"I'm sorry," Nicolette sniffled, already feeling well enough to feel mortified about breaking down in front of this relatively-complete stranger.

"It's fine," Hermione soothed, running her hands comfortingly over Nicolette's back. "Can you tell me a bit more specifically what's wrong?"

Nicolette sat up, pushing herself away from Hermione slightly and dragging the back of one hand across her cheeks to wipe away most of the moisture her tears had caused. "I'm sorry," she apologized again. "I didn't mean for anyone to see me cry." She sniffed and then let out an awkward laugh. "It's really nothing. Honestly."

Hermione watched her calmly for a moment and then sighed. "Nicolette," she said carefully, "there's nothing wrong with keeping things to yourself, and I realize that you've only known me for about half an hour, so if I'm not the person you want to confide in, I understand. However, you can't keep everything hidden forever." It was Hermione's turn to laugh awkwardly. "I've done that too many times at school, and it hasn't turned out well."

Nicolette nodded. "I just-I need time."

Hermione smiled. "Anyone in the Weasley family has all the time in the world for you." She stood shakily and extended her hand to help Nicolette up. "Come on. It's time for dinner."

Nicolette took the offered hand and let Hermione help her up. "Thank you," she said sincerely, knowing that Hermione would understand the full extent of her thanks.

Sure enough, Hermione nodded her head and grinned, placing a gentle hand on Nicolette's shoulder. "Anytime. It's going to be scary getting married."

"Who are you marrying?" Nicolette asked as they slowly made their way down the stairs. "Fred?"

Hermione actually laughed, the stress lines on her forehead relaxing. "No," she chuckled. "No, I'm afraid I'm not marrying Fred. It might be better if I was."

Nicolette frowned. "I don't understand," she said carefully. "Is there something wrong with the person you're marrying?"

Hermione shook her head again. "No, he's a nice fellow and all. His name is Oliver Wood. He's a quidditch player." Seeing Nicolette's confused face, Hermione apologized. "Sorry, forgot that you don't know what quidditch is. We'll take you to a game sometime." She smiled. "The Weasley family's big on quidditch."

They walked for a few more steps before Nicolette got up the courage to point out, "You didn't ever answer my question. Why should you have married Fred?"

They were closer to the rambunctious sounds echoing from downstairs, and Nicolette was surprised when Hermione stopped suddenly on the stairs. The older girl turned to her and sighed. "Fred is marrying George's girlfriend, Angelina."

"Oh." What else could one say to such blunt truth as that? Nicolette found that she didn't have an eloquent response to that, so 'oh' would have to suffice.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, they're both a bit upset about it."

So that explained George's anger towards her, Nicolette reasoned. He was angry because she was being shoved towards him while his girlfriend was ripped away from him. "Oh," was all she could say again.

Hermione seemed to notice, because she peered closely at Nicolette's expression. "That doesn't mean that he can't grow to fancy you," she told Nicolette, hesitating before she said something more potent like "love."

"Mm," Nicolette said, noncommittal. She, however, knew better. George had made things very, very clear. He would never fancy her. He would never love her.

Hermione seemed to have realized that she had lost Nicolette's attention, so she continued down the stairs, aware that everyone in the kitchen was waiting for them. Nicolette had caught up to her by the time they reached the kitchen, and she immediately watched as George's eyes went straight to his fiancé, searching for something perhaps? She couldn't be sure.

Molly Weasley was the one that quickly guided Nicolette over to a chair, hurriedly introducing her to her husband, Arthur Weasley even she pushed Nicolette into the chair next to George's. Hermione didn't miss the briefest glance that Nicolette shot towards George before she casually scooted to the furthest edge of the chair away from him. Hermione's eyes narrowed. She would have to watch George. Obviously, something had already happened between them that Nicolette was not eager to share.

"I'm sorry that Dumbledore's left," Molly said as she motioned for everyone to dish up their plates, "but he said he would be back soon to check up on you."

Nicolette nodded, knowing that she would be unable to be heard over the chatter going on around the table. She was saved from having to verbalize her answer by having Arthur Weasley's voice break through everyone else's. "Nicolette, perhaps you could tell me something," he said excitedly, while the rest of the family waited, anticipating what was to come. "Tell me, what is the use of a hula hoop?"

Next to her, George snorted and glanced over at Fred, who was sitting on his other side. "Told you," she heard him mutter darkly.

She ignored him however, and bravely, albeit confusedly, launched into a detailed explanation of a hula hoop while George glared at her and the rest of the family, including Hermione, smiled at her. "It's quite fun," she assured Mr. Weasley, grinning shyly at him.

He grinned back. "Excellent!" he murmured happily.

Further talk was interrupted when the fireplace roared to life and someone stepped out of it. Nicolette stared, blinking at the tall girl that had emerged. She instinctively found Hermione across the table. "Floo network," she whispered. "I'll show you later."

Molly smiled rather nervously at the new arrival. "Hello, Angelina dear."

Nicolette could feel George glaring holes in her head as she studied the girl that she had metaphorically ripped away from him. This was going to be a long dinner.

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**A/N: I hope you're enjoying this! Please review! **


	5. Can You Be Happy?

**A/N: Enjoy!!**

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Hermione didn't wait long before she cornered George. Dinner had _not _gone well. As soon as Angelina had arrived, the teetering atmosphere had taken a turn for the worst and had plunged into awkwardness. There were plenty of glances between Angelina and George, as well as Angelina and Nicolette, who was trying her hardest to be kind and polite around George's old girlfriend. George, on the other hand, was not making things easy for her.

His subtle digs on her character had made Nicolette blush all throughout dinner, but her mind was sharp and she had managed quite a few comebacks before anyone could really reprimand George for his uncharacteristically rude behavior. Many of his remarks about her usefulness in the wizarding world flew over her head, though, leaving her frowning and confused. Hermione had nearly hexed George right there, and was pleased, yet surprised, to see that Fred appeared close to doing the same.

So now, as the family dispersed to different places, Hermione slipped away and found George in the shed outside, pulling his broom out for the family game of quidditch. She pulled to mind quite a few of his slurs and strode forward, her anger giving her the upper hand as she whirled him around by his shoulder and gripped the collar of his shirt with both hands, shoving him up against the wall. George's eyes went wide with the surprise of being thrown off-balance, but then his arrogant shield flew up and he smirked. "Sorry Granger, but I'm taken already. About to be chained down soon." He shrugged his shoulders haughtily. "You're a bit late."

"Don't give me that, George Weasley," Hermione growled angrily. "You know exactly why I'm here."

George eyed her hands, still clenching his shirt, and then said, "I don't actually, so why don't you tell me?" The edge in his tone told Hermione that he was getting angry, and she was pretty sure that it had nothing to do with her keeping him from the quidditch game. No, he knew why she was there, and he knew that he was in trouble.

"I'm talking about the girl that you're 'chained' to," Hermione said, sarcastically refreshing his memory. "The girl that you don't deserve."

George glared at her. "Hardly," he puffed out.

"Yeah, well, I can tell you for a fact that she's a much better person than you are," Hermione told him. She let go of one chunk of his shirt and thumped his chest until he actually winced. "You _humiliated_ her at dinner, you git!"

"Good!" George spat back loudly, his cool control snapping. He shoved Hermione so hard that she stumbled backwards and landed awkwardly on the sharp corner of Arthur's workbench. With anger flashing in his eyes and no thought for her safety, George advanced on her, glaring out from his red strands of hair. "Maybe she should just go back where she came from!" he yelled.

"You know she can't do that!" Hermione yelled as well, matching his volume and no longer worrying about who might hear them. "You'll both go to Azkaban!"

"Better than marrying her!" George bellowed, his face inches from hers. Hermione found herself leaning back to keep away from him, but he followed her down, angrier than she had ever seen him. However, she was not about to let him best her.

"Why?" she cried, thrusting her chin out defiantly. Let him give her a solid, understandable reason for his rudeness. "Because she's not Angelina?"

"YES!" The cry came out so quickly, and so forcefully, that it was almost a scream. George's eyes widened when he realized what he said, but it couldn't be taken back now.

"STOP!" Both George and Hermione turned to see who had spoken and they found Angelina standing in the doorway, her dark eyes flashing as she watched them. "Just stop! George, get away from her." The cutting, quidditch-captain tone of Angelina's voice seemed to startle George and he backed away from Hermione, who stood up, wincing as she did so. "Hermione, will you tell the others that George and I will be out in a few moments?"

Hermione looked from George to Angelina and back, surprised that it was George's girlfriend that had stepped up. "Uh, sure," she said hesitantly, slipping around George to head out the door.

Angelina closed the door behind her friend and turned to face George. She leaned against the door and crossed her arms over her chest. "What were you thinking, George?"

George's eyes widened in surprise and he gasped, "Me?! Hermione came to me!"

Angelina shook her head. "I meant earlier. You know, at the dinner table." She shook her head in disappointment. "George, you embarrassed the poor girl!"

"But she deserved it!" he cried defensively, angry that Angelina, the one person he thought would take his side, was taking the side of _that girl_! "Why are you taking _her_ side?" He stared at her for a moment and then said brokenly, "You should be taking my side."

"I would, if your side was right," Angelina told him softly. "I'll always fight for you. But you and I both know that you're wrong and Hermione is right. George, we need to move forward. We need to get on with the lives that the Ministry's laid out for us, not keep trying to fight it."

Her voice was so calm, so controlled, that George felt a whole new rush of anger. "I don't want to move on! I want to be back with you! How can you just stand there and say that so calmly? Our whole world's been pulled apart!"

Angelina looked as though she pitied him. Carefully, she explained, "I'm not controlled, and I'm absolutely furious. George, I think I've cried myself to sleep these last two nights since the letter came. However, crying, being angry, and making your future partner's life a living hell is not going to solve anything." She paused to make sure that he was thinking about Nicolette. "She's gone through some hard changes as well. You at least have your family around you. She's been pulled away from everything she knows and told to marry a guy that she's never even met." Angelina smiled sadly. "You could give her a bit of credit and cut her some slack."

George shook his head angrily, but changed the subject. "I was surprised that you came for dinner," he said stiffly.

Angelina nodded. "Your mother invited me." She looked him straight in the eyes and said, "She wanted me to spend a little time with Fred, grounding myself a bit."

George stared at her and then cleared his throat. "And how has that gone so far?" He was almost afraid to ask.

"Well, it's not like we don't know each other," Angelina said with a shrug. "It's just strange conversing with a mirror image of your old boyfriend, but I'll get over it, as long as I know that you're happy and that you can be happy for your brother and I."

George gulped. She was asking for his blessing. A blessing to be happy with his twin brother. He blinked and stared at her, not truly seeing her form as tears swam before his eyes. All he could think of were flashes from the past, intimate moments between them, tender moments, flat out passionate, loving moments. Ones that he would never have again. As he gazed at her, standing there, waiting for him, he felt his throat tighten and he nodded. "I hope you're both very happy." He mentally congratulated himself on keeping an even tone throughout his lie.

Angelina nodded, and uncrossed her arms. "Thanks. Perhaps in time you'll come to really mean it."

She started to move away from the door, signaling that their talk was over, but George stopped her from leaving with his last request. "Can I kiss you once more?"

Her back was to him, and for a moment, he thought she would leave. But then, she turned around and he saw emotion for the first time on her face. She was crying. As the tears made tracks down her cheeks, Angelina hesitated. Finally, she shook her head. "No," she said, her voice cracking, "because you and I both know that we won't be able to stop there, and I won't cheat on Fred."

And with that, she was gone, shutting the door to the shed behind her, and in that moment, George knew that Angelina was truly no longer his. She belonged to his brother.

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**A/N: Thank you all for your awesome reviews! I hope you're enjoying this story as much as I'm enjoying writing it!! Please REVIEW!** **I hope this gives a little bit of insight into Angelina's thoughts and feelings as well as George's.**


	6. Flying

**A/N: Enjoy!!**

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Nicolette was inside the kitchen of the Burrow, having volunteered to do the dishes the "muggle" way, as these people were so fond of calling it. Mrs. Weasley had finally relented and had bustled off with Bill and Fleur to discuss no longer using something called contraceptive charms. Nicolette shook her head. Things were so different here, though she had an idea about what that kind of charm was, and she blushed.

Her hands dipped into the soapy water as she pulled out another plate and began to wash off the grime from dinner. Dishes had never been her favorite chore in the world, but today she took comfort in them. Today, dishes seemed normal. Dishes were safe. She could count on them not changing on her.

"Hi," someone said, causing the plate to slip out of Nicolette's hands and clatter into the sink.

"Oh!" she cried, spinning around and splattering the ground and herself with water droplets. She blushed when she saw who was standing there. "You scared me."

Angelina ducked her head. "Sorry about that," she apologized. When Nicolette reached into the sink, only to find that the plate had broken, she stepped forward and drew out her wand. "Let me," she offered, and cast a quick repairing charm on the broken china.

Nicolette stared at the plate for a moment before she shook herself and grinned shyly. "Wow. Thank you. I-I didn't know that you could do that, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised, should I?"

Angelina looked at her for a moment before saying, "I think a lot of things will surprise you here. And no, I don't think that you should have been prepared for something like that." She rubbed the back of her neck for a moment, appearing to be searching for words. "Not everyone will react to you the way George has," was what she finally came up with.

Immediately, Nicolette lowered her gaze, studying the floor intently. She said the first thing that came to mind. "I didn't ask for this."

Angelina nodded. "I know. None of us did. But Nicolette," she paused, waiting until Nicolette met her gaze again. "I'm not mad at you. I'm furious at the Ministry, and I'm incredibly jealous, but I'm not mad at you. Please, you need to understand that."

Nicolette was surprised by Angelina's almost pleading tone. "I do," she said, confused. "Of course I believe you." She ducked her head. "I'm just sorry that it had to be me."

"Don't be." Angelina said, her voice returning to her authoritative, clipped tone. "Don't ever be sorry for something like this that you can't change. Now come outside and play with us."

Nicolette cast a quick glance back to the dishes. "I can't," she began, but Angelina pointed her wand at the dishes and they scrubbed themselves clean, flying into their appropriate shelves as soon as they were dry.

"What were you saying?" Angelina teased.

Nicolette actually laughed. "I can't _not_ go," she finished, grinning. She followed Angelina out of the kitchen, feeling a small weight shifting off of her heart. There was one less person that was angry with her.

Outside, Nicolette watched in awe as the boys and Ginny swooped around on their broomsticks, tossing a leather ball around in the air and shouting when someone obviously not on their team grabbed the ball in midair. Her mouth twitched into a smile, and she eagerly tried to take in every sight. "Wow," she breathed.

Angelina grinned her way and waved for her friends to stop their game for a moment. "Hey guys, hold on a sec," she called. "Nicolette's never been on a broom before, and I think we need to show her how it's done."

Fred grinned down at Nicolette. "You'll love it!" he promised, and then nodded towards his twin brother, who was hanging back and refusing to meet anyone's eyes. "George'll help you."

George's head snapped up. "What?"

"What?" Nicolette asked at the same time, feeling panicky.

Fred glanced between them and explained, "Angelina probably can't carry you, and I can't either because you're not my girl, so we'll let George do the honors. Come on, Georgie. Help the pretty girl." He winked at Nicolette, who ducked her head and blushed. No one had ever called her pretty before.

George hesitantly landed his broom, unable to refuse when almost his entire family was waiting for him to make a move. He motioned to the broomstick. "Get on," he ordered, his tone irritated and clipped.

Nicolette took a step backwards, almost running into Angelina. "It's really alright. I can try some other time."

"There's no time like the present," Ginny chirped from her broom. "Don't worry and get on!" Her laughter eased Nicolette slightly, but she still hesitated as she crossed over to George and eyed the broomstick.

"How should I get on?" she asked quietly.

George resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Preferably one foot at a time," he deadpanned.

Angelina actually rolled her eyes. "Try sitting, what do you call it, sidesaddle?" When Nicolette nodded, Angelina added, "That'll be easiest."

Nicolette obeyed, climbing on carefully as George held the broom steady. As she shifted uncomfortably, she wondered what she should do with her hands. How would she hold on? George answered her unspoken question by sighing. "Wrap your arms around my neck," he instructed gruffly, and she obeyed again.

George kicked off the ground, and Nicolette gasped as she felt a rushing sensation in the pit of her stomach. George slowly turned them, and Nicolette felt a smile creeping across her face. Flying was amazing! She turned to smile at George, but found him gazing harshly at her, which caused her to shift away. However, she forgot that she was on a narrow broomstick, and the sideways momentum pulled her off the small handle. She let go of George's neck just in time as she fell the five feet to the ground.

She landed with a thump that knocked the breath out of her lungs, her legs crumpling under her as gravity slammed her body into the ground. Her head hit the grass and she squeezed her eyes shut tightly. She vaguely heard someone crying her name, but she couldn't open her eyes. They simply wouldn't obey.

"Nicolette! Nicolette!" someone yelled, and she could barely make out the pattering of feet.

"Oh," she groaned. "Ow." She was now able to crack her eyes open, and that was when she noticed that everyone but George had gathered around her and were anxiously staring down at her.

"Are you alright?" The speaker this time was Hermione, who had been reading on the porch and had rushed over.

Nicolette nodded, trying to ignore the pounding in her head. "I…think so," she mumbled, taking Hermione's offered hand and standing. She nodded once more. "I'm okay. I'm alright." However, it was said more to herself than to anyone else.

She turned to glance at George, her eyes searching his for a moment before he turned away, acknowledging that he knew what had happened. She opened her mouth to say something, but she was interrupted by Molly Weasley's call. "Nicolette! George! Come inside! Dumbledore's here to see you!"

Nicolette and George both glanced at her, and then at each other, their faces showing the strain of their worry. Why had Dumbledore left and come back in the same day? As they walked towards the Burrow's kitchen door, Nicolette had a sinking feeling that had nothing to do with the fall she had just taken.

He must be here about their marriage.

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**A/N: I hope you liked this chapter. Please review and let me know what you think. Not getting reviews is like talking to a blank wall! So don't be blank walls!! ;)  
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	7. Marriage Bond

**A/N: I'm so sorry that this has taken so long, but I've been pretty sick, so please forgive the lateness! Enjoy!**

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Nicolette would have been happier if Molly Weasley had stayed in the room and had not been sent to fetch her parents. She would have felt more comforted if George had held her hand, or had even sat next to her, but none of these things happened. Molly apparated away, and George sat across from her on the couch as Dumbledore motioned her to a chair.

"I'm so sorry that I left without saying goodbye," Dumbledore began, "but I received an owl saying that the Ministry needed me."

Nicolette nodded absently, her mind working overtime to catch up with all of these new terms. "Owl," "Ministry," people disappearing right in front of her, for that matter, was enough to make her head spin. "It's no problem," she lied. "I was in…good hands." _"Why did you leave me? I was so frightened, and George hates me, and I just fell off a broom! A broom of all things!"_ she thought, her feelings jumbling around almost hysterically as she fought to keep her composure. She wouldn't give George the satisfaction of seeing her break down.

Dumbledore gazed at her for a moment before sighing and saying, "I sent Molly to fetch your parents because I think that this marriage should take place today."

"Why?!" George and Nicolette cried, both of them sounding strained.

Despite the graveness of the situation, Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he shrugged casually. "Since this law has been put into effect, witches and wizards are racing around, trying to book their weddings. The Ministry has completely filled up my days, and I do believe that both of your parents had wanted me to do the ceremony, so here I am. Plus, I think it might be beneficial for you to marry to today. You know, get a jump start on these things."

Nicolette felt absolute fear shoot up and down her spine. She was getting married. Today. To him! She was about to refuse, to say that she would rather try out this-what did they call it?-Azkaban than marry George, but there was another startlingly-loud pop and Molly Weasley was back, accompanied by a wide-eyed Mr. and Mrs. Tyndale. "Nicolette!" her mother cried, rushing forward unsteadily.

It was then that Nicolette made her choice. She couldn't disappoint her parents, and she couldn't disappoint Dumbledore, who had been so kind to her during this whole, rushed situation. She would see this marriage through, and she would do her part to make it a happy one, despite George's firm resolve that he would never love her. With that in mind, she squared her shoulders and hugged her mother tightly. "Mum," she murmured.

Dumbledore was still watching her when she pulled back, and he smiled widely. "Mrs. Weasley, would you please call your children together? I believe that they wouldn't like to miss the ceremony."

Mrs. Weasley obediently did so, and soon, the whole Weasley family, Hermione, and Angelina were squeezed into the living room, watching the rushed bonding ceremony between Nicolette and George. Nicolette stood in front of Dumbledore with George at her side, much as she had imagined that her wedding would be set up. However, she didn't hear a word of what Dumbledore was saying, and George never gave her a ring. Dumbledore waved his wand over their limply-joined hands and they were bonded. A faint outline appeared on their wrists, looking very much like a bracelet.

"This is the bond you've forged," Dumbledore explained when he saw Nicolette looking at it quizzically. "As your relationship develops, so will the bracelet." He held up a warning finger. "Beware though, Nicolette. As a muggle, you will have to maintain contact with George often, otherwise the bond you share will make you very ill. Do you understand?"

"_Not really."_ "Yes," she said aloud.

Dumbledore nodded. "Mr. Weasley," he said, turning to George, "it is your responsibility to look after your wife." He paused, and then added with a knowing grin, "She's far more special than you think."

Nicolette expected him to scoff right then and there, but George had the decency to simply let his mouth quirk into a sardonic smile as he nodded politely. "I understand, sir," he said.

"Well then, congratulations to you both. I must get back, but I wish you the best of luck," Dumbledore said, and then he was gone, apparating away.

Molly and Arthur were the first people to come forward to congratulate the new couple, followed closely by Nicolette's parents. Hermione followed after, hugging Nicolette tightly. "It'll be okay," she whispered in Nicolette's ear.

Nicolette nodded and allowed herself to be passed from family member to family member, but in her heart, she knew the truth. It was never going to be okay.

After the awkward congratulations and well wishes had concluded, Fred cleared his throat and said, "Right, well, I think I'll just warm up my old bed tonight, if that's alright with you, mum."

Nicolette barely heard Molly murmur, "Of course," as a whole new type of fear coursed through her. The wedding night. How could she have forgotten the wedding night?!

George nodded stiffly. "We'll head back to the flat then."

Fred gazed at his brother for a moment. "I'll open the shop for you tomorrow," he offered.

George shook his head. "No," he said. "I'll be up."

Nicolette ducked her head and closed her eyes, squeezing them together in the hope that she wouldn't cry. She'd never done this before. She'd never even _dated _before! This was all too fast, and this was not how she had imagined that things would be. She had never thought that she would be marrying a man that didn't love her.

A hand crept into hers, and Nicolette turned to find Angelina standing there, having slipped in while everyone was talking. "You'll be okay," she whispered in Nicolette's ear. "George'll be a perfect gentleman."

Nicolette glanced over at said gentleman and found him staring hard at her. Angelina's words failed to comfort her. "Thanks," she whispered back, feeling that she at least needed to acknowledge Angelina's effort.

George glanced at the clock and noticed the late hour. "We'd better get going," he said, his voice betraying no emotion. "I have an early day tomorrow."

Nicolette froze for a moment before she nodded and moved to say goodbye to everyone, a smile firmly pasted onto her face. It was only when her mother hugged her that the smile wavered and threatened to disappear, but Nicolette kept her composure. "I'll see you soon," she promised her parents.

She almost broke down again when she heard her mother congratulate George and say, "Take care of her." She didn't bother to wait to hear George lie. She simply moved on and said goodbye to the rest of the family members who were trying their best to wish her well, having only known her for a few short hours.

When Nicolette reached Fred, he grinned and reached out, pulling her close and hugging her tightly. She smiled into the friendly embrace, and she noticed that Angelina was smiling as well. However, the smiles fell from both of their faces as George walked over and said, "Let her go, Fred. You can't take all of my girls."

There was stiff silence for a moment as Fred released Nicolette, who stepped away quickly. He forced a smile at his twin and said, "Wouldn't dream of it, Georgie." He hugged his brother, who limply hugged back and then said, "Enjoy!"

George glared at him.

"Your apparation home," Fred hastily added.

With a curt nod, George moved next to Nicolette and apparated them out of the Burrow. For the second time that day, Nicolette felt the awful pulling sensation of apparation, and barely caught herself when they reached what appeared to be the flat. George didn't bother to reach out to catch her, and he didn't even look her way as he strode into what she assumed was his bedroom._ "Perfect gentleman indeed,"_ she thought.

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But he wasn't the perfect gentleman. No, he hadn't been brutal with her, but he was by no means gentle. Hours later, Nicolette was curled up on her side of his magically enlarged bed, pressing her face into her pillow in an effort not the cry. Her whole body hurt, and the pain just would not go away. She was curled up as tightly as she could be, her knees tucked into her chest, and still the pain remained.

She felt George stir next to her, and she opened her eyes, only to find the very first rays of sunshine seeping into the room. Her body tensed as George sat up and swung out of bed, heading into the bathroom without a word, though it must have been obvious that she was still awake. Stubbornly, she kept her back to him.

An hour later, he had emerged, dressed and ready to go. He didn't even pause as he passed by the bed and headed out the door.

And for the first time that night, Nicolette let her pent up tears fall.

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**A/N: I hope you're mad at George. I'M mad at George!! Please review guys! 25 people AT LEAST are reading this story, so share your thoughts!! It takes a couple of seconds!!**


	8. Magic

**Thanks for waiting for this! I hope you enjoy!**

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He was being an absolute jerk. And he knew it. And he knew that Fred knew that he knew it. As soon as George stepped down into the shop, Fred turned to him, grinning. He was obviously about to wish his twin a "very" good morning, but upon seeing George's face, his expression immediately darkened.

"You didn't," he murmured, and his tone was low and angry, something that George was not accustomed to hear from his brother.

George didn't say anything. All he could think about was the way that he had treated his new wife last night. His stomach churned, thinking about just how harsh he had been with her. There had been no gentleman in him last night, and if his mother knew, she would have been ashamed of him.

_He_ was ashamed of himself.

Fred appeared to be disappointed as well because he simply nodded towards the counter. "Your turn," was all he said stiffly.

"Fred," George said, getting ready to apologize, but Fred was already pushing past him and heading towards the back room, no doubt to get some more supplies. With a sigh, and feeling like the lowest of the low, George headed forward towards the counter where a young boy was waiting patiently to purchase an Extendable Ear. "Sorry about that," he said to the boy, and rang up the purchase.

As soon as the boy left, George slouched against the counter, running his hands through his short hair. His one hand gripped the counter, and as his knuckles turned white, all he could think about was Nicolette's hands clenching the bedsheets, not due to passion, but due to an effort not to cry out. He twisted his head to the side and closed his eyes, hoping to stop the sudden onslaught of images. He had been cruel, and he hated himself for it.

"George?"

He lifted his head and found the object of his self-loathing standing there unsteadily, holding onto the railing of the stairway as nonchalantly as she could. She was slightly slumped over, which told him that she was still in quite a bit of pain, but she had changed, putting on a fresh pair of jeans and a pretty blue top along with muggle sneakers. She looked…cute? He cleared his mind as well as his throat. "Hi," he said, feeling that his voice sounded rather gravelly.

"Hi," she responded looking hesitant to come into the room further, as though he might hurt her again.

"_Wonder where she got that idea?"_ George thought sarcastically. His hand traveled inconspicuously down to his wand by his side and he slid it out, holding it under the counter so that she couldn't see it. He couldn't heal her mentally, but he could at least do the right thing and heal her physically. "You're welcome to look around," he told her, trying to sound as neutral as possible. "Would you do me a favor and close the door, though?"

He nodded to the front door, which the young boy had left open, and Nicolette obediently made her way over, walking slowly, stiffly. He raised his wand and pointed it at her back, barely murmuring a healing spell. Almost immediately, he saw with relief that her back straightened unconsciously and her walk was not as bow-legged as it had been before. "Better," he murmured.

"Excuse me?" Nicolette asked, turning around right after closing the door.

George looked up at her, surprised that she could hear that well, and said, "The door being closed. It's much better." He gulped and then crossed around the counter, taking slow, careful steps toward her in an effort not to frighten her. "N-Nicolette," he said, her name rolling off his lips for the first time and sounding rather foreign to his ears.

She looked up at him nervously. "Yes?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper as he stopped in front of her.

He had every intention of apologizing to her. He had every intention of admitting that she was not the reason that he was so mad. He had _every_ intention of asking for her forgiveness and promising that he would never treat her in such a cold, distant way again.

But before he could, Angelina walked through the door.

"Hi!" she said cheerily, though appearing somewhat surprised by the fact that her two friends were just standing there in the middle of the shop.

"Hi Angelina," Nicolette said sweetly, accepting the hug that the older girl gave her.

"Angie," George said, wincing mentally as the word came out in more of a murmur than he had intended.

Angelina, to her credit, did not move to hug him, though he could tell by her body language that she was aching to. She simply smiled at him and said, "I'm here to see Fred. Is he in the back room?"

George nodded, and Angelina darted away to go see the man that she was marrying the day after tomorrow. Immediately, he felt another swell of hurt and anger arise within his chest. He couldn't bear to watch her shut the door behind her. He couldn't bear to think of his twin brother, identical to him in almost every way aside from name, giving her the hug he could never have.

"Were you going to say something?"

The voice startled him back, and George turned to find his wife standing there contritely, looking at him expectantly. He didn't have time to think before hateful words slipped out of his mouth. "No," he muttered bitingly.

"Oh," Nicolette said, and then moved past him, heading towards the back room where he expected that she hoped to find Angelina and Fred. All done to get away from him.

Three customers came through the door and George waited until he had helped them before he headed towards the back room. As soon as he pushed open the door, three heads swung in his direction. Angelina and Nicolette were standing close together, and George guessed that they had been hugging each other. Fred was wearing a loose grin, which vanished immediately when George stepped into the room.

The silence was so palpable and awkward that Angelina finally spoke up with the only thing she could think of. "Nicolette was just telling us what a night she had."

By her wince, George knew that she immediately regretted her choice of opening topics, but the damage was done. He tried to stop the words, he really did, but, "Yeah, well, it was probably uneventful for her," came out as though pulled on their own. "She didn't do much. I would rather have slept with you any day."

"George!" Fred growled, while Angelina looked absolutely horrified.

However, neither of those two were what caught George's attention. It was Nicolette herself that he couldn't stop watching. She was shaking. Her face had paled considerably, and there were already tears running down her cheeks, some probably remnants from last night, if he had to guess. Her eyes were flashing with disgust, but it was her hair that really captivated him. The ends were standing up, as though electrically charged.

Before anyone could say another word, the numerous bottles and vials stored on the shelf behind her exploded, sending glass and various potions scattering in every direction. Fred covered most of Angelina's body with his own, and George ducked behind a stack of crates until the deluge of glass and liquid abated.

The room was deathly quiet for a moment, and then George peeked his head around the crates, only to find Nicolette standing there, her face frozen in a shocked and horrified expression. She glanced down at the mess she had made, and gulped. She looked up at George, and it was only then that George realized something altogether important about his wife.

She had no idea that she was capable of magic.

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**A/N: Yes, she's still a muggle, and no, she's not a Mary-sue. But I must point out before I get flaming reviews that Dumbledore did previously mention that only two or three muggles had been chosen, and that Nicolette was much more special than anyone thought. Please review, and think of it as a birthday present for me! ;) Also, please check out The Luck of the Clover and vote for it if you have a chance. Thanks!**


	9. Mrs Weasley's Magic

**A/N: Thanks for being so patient and waiting!! Here you are!**

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No one spoke for a very long time. Nicolette's face was almost as white as paper, and it was probably only the glass and unknown liquids scattered all over the floor that kept her from sinking down onto the ground. Her astonished expression had not been altered since the explosion and her gaze was fixed on the broken glass around her feet.

Fred was the one to break the shocked silence. He gently loosened his hold on Angelina and moved closer to Nicolette, placing a hand on her shoulder, hoping to calm her obviously frayed nerves. "I _knew_ I liked you," he told her with a grin.

His joke shook Angelina out of her stupor and she slowly strode forwards as well and pulled Nicolette into a hug. "It's okay," she whispered, hoping to sooth the shell-shocked girl in her arms. "You're alright."

"What…happened?" Nicolette gasped out.

Fred glanced over to where George was slinking out from behind the crates. "Not sure," he lied, unsure how to tell her that she had used magic. "We should go ask Dumbledore. He'll probably know." He grinned. "After all, he's the one that told us that you were so special in the first place."

Nicolette glanced around. "_This_ is what he meant?" she asked disbelievingly.

"We'll find out," Angelina promised, taking Nicolette by the arm and leading her out of the room, beginning to tell her with simplistic details how a thing called "flooing" worked.

When they left the room, Fred turned and looked at his twin, who was watching him anxiously, waiting for him to say something. As expected, Fred did. He shook his head sadly and asked, "Who _are _you?"

George gazed up at him, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"I honestly don't know who you are anymore," Fred explained. "The George I know wouldn't act this way."

George glared down at the floor. "I know."

Fred frowned, watching his brother carefully. He sounded miserable. "If you know, than why are you acting like such a jerk?"

George was silent for a long time. He pushed shards of glass around on the floor with the toe of his shoe, dragging the pieces through scattered potion puddles, creating different swirls on the floor. "I can't control what's coming out of my mouth these days," he admitted. "I hurt her last night, and I didn't care." He then hastily assured Fred, "But I healed her earlier. I was honestly going to apologize, but then Angelina walked in and, well…"

Fred didn't need to be told anything else. He could fill in the blanks. It was Angelina's presence that was constantly awakening George's self-pitying feelings. "I can't believe I'm saying this," he said slowly, disbelievingly, "and I know it's going to sound harsh and terribly Percy-like, but you've got to get over yourself."

George gaped at him. These words were coming out of his brother's mouth, his _twin_ brother's mouth. "What?" he managed to gasp out.

"Angelina is a thing of your past. She's mine now. You have an amazing person as your wife, and you're treating her like dirt. George, she was so angry, she used magic she didn't know she had!"

George blinked. His twin was claiming Angelina as "his." Was this really happening?

"Please, George," Fred said softly. "You have to get over this. You're _better_ than this! Are you really going to take out your frustrations with the Ministry on your wife?" When George just stared at him, Fred closed his eyes. "You have two seconds to say no before I hex you."

That statement woke George from his inability to speak. "You wouldn't," he said lightly. "You've never hexed me, and you wouldn't start now."

Fred's lips twitched as he seemed to be struggling not to smile. "Don't give me a reason to," he told George meaningfully. George immediately sobered, the small smile falling from his face.

"I'll try not to," he promised.

Fred nodded and then said, "Come on. The girls have probably flooed without us."

They had indeed, and so Fred and George found themselves stepping out of the floo into the Headmaster's chamber on their own. George's eyes immediately searched for Nicolette, expecting her to still be distraught. Instead, he found Dumbledore handing her a cup of tea and a lemon drop. She smiled up at him and took it quite calmly. "Ah, good!" Dumbledore exclaimed when he saw the Weasley boys. "You've arrived. Now we can get down to business!" He rubbed his hands together and then asked, "Lemon drop?"

"Uh, no, thank you," George said, taking the chair Dumbledore motioned for him to take.

Fred also declined, so Dumbledore straightened slightly and said, "Wonderful! You're all here. Now, tell me again what happened, Miss Johnson, and please slow down this time."

Angelina, who had obviously rushed through her first account, now cleared her throat and began again, tactfully leaving out any mention of George's hurtful words. "And then we came to you," she finished.

Dumbledore looked pleased as he nodded and glanced over at Nicolette, who had begun sliding further and further down into her seat out of embarrassment. "It seems that Mrs. Weasley's powers have developed much quicker than I anticipated."

Nicolette started at being called Mrs. Weasley. She blinked, trying to adjust to the foreign name. Obviously, George thought it was strange as well since he seemed to be frowning. "I don't understand," she said, stating the overly obvious.

Dumbledore nodded in understanding and began his explanation. "Your case is a very rare one that I have studied extensively after I brought you here. You see, in the wizarding world, we have some people who are called squibs. They are born to magical parents but have no magic themselves. You are something in between a squib and a muggleborn witch, who is much like Miss Hermione Granger."

Nicolette nodded, following his train of thought so far.

"Your parents possess no magic," Dumbledore went on, "but you have, which makes you different from a squib. However, the magic has been buried so deep inside of you that until today, you have had to knowledge of it, unlike a muggleborn witch." He glanced at George for a moment before saying, "Your…coupling with Mr. Weasley pulled your magic to the surface and even added a bit of magic to it as well because he is a pureblooded wizard. Do you understand?"

Nicolette sat there for a moment. "Not really," she answered truthfully. "I thought anyone with magic was supposed to have some sort of sign when they were younger."

Dumbledore nodded. "If you had possessed more magic when you were younger, you would have been brought to our school and trained. However, you didn't have enough to warrant training. Now you do." His eyes twinkled as he glanced again at George. "I told you she was special."

Nicolette sat back in her chair, gripping her teacup in her hand with a white-knuckled death grip. "So are the other, um, muggles that are here now just like me?" Dumbledore nodded. "What do I do now?"

Dumbledore took out a piece of parchment. "I'll owl Miss Granger and ask if she would be willing to give you some rudimentary lessons. They might be rather impromptu, though, due to the war going on." He scrawled a few lines and attached the note to the leg of an owl that was perched on his bookcase. "Miss Granger, without delay," he told it. The owl immediately took off. He smiled when he turned around. "That should solve it," he declared.

"What should I do in the meantime?" Nicolette asked.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he sat back down at his desk and popped a lemon drop into his mouth. "Well, Mrs. Weasley, I suggest you obtain a wand."

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**A/N: I hope you guys liked this!! Please keep in mind that this is fanfiction, so Dumbledore's explanation should be perfectly reasonable, even though it might not be probable in the actual books. Thanks so much for reading!! Please review! :D**


	10. Choosing Your Wand

**A/N: Thank you guys for being so patient! Enjoy!**

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Nicolette stared at the piece of wood in her hand, feeling rather foolish, but still afraid. Her knuckles tightened uncontrollably, gripping the wood as though she might be able to get a grip on her life, the one currently spinning out of control. Her knees trembled, and she couldn't remember for a moment what she was supposed to do.

"Give it a wave!" the man behind the counter said, sounding slightly annoyed by her cluelessness.

George took a breath and stepped up behind her, his longer arm reaching around and stretching to grasp her wrist. "Like this," he whispered and then he forced her wrist into the wand movement. Immediately, the books on the counter flew up and the pages were ripped out and shredded as they fluttered to the floor. The covers fell back onto the desk and George stepped away from her.

"I'm so sorry!" she gasped out, but Ollivander just waved her aside as he moved to the back of the shop, peering at boxes upon boxes. He extracted one and brought it back to Nicolette.

"Try this one," he told her.

The wand was slightly longer, but Nicolette's hand fit well into the grip. She grasped it tightly and smiled for a moment at George before she waved it in exactly the same motion as before. A burst of power shot through the wand, whirling its way around her body before sweeping her legs out from under her. She landed flat on her back, her eyes wide and her mouth open in a gasp.

"Apparently not," Ollivander murmured as he moved to the back of the shop again.

Fred was the first one to reach Nicolette, pulling her up carefully. "Are you alright?" he and George asked at the same time.

Nicolette nodded, slightly shaky. "Wasn't expecting that," she admitted sheepishly. She ducked her head, embarrassed. "I'm fine." She bravely turned her attention back to where Ollivander was handing her another wand.

"Try this one," he instructed again.

Nicolette bit her lip, embarrassment over his ruined ledgers swelling to the front of her mind. She gripped the vine handle and gave it the same movement, already bracing for something unpleasant to happen as a warm feeling spread over her. There was a whirl, and then all the pages that had been scattered flew up, pressing themselves together, and filed back into the ledgers. As the last page flew back into its spot, the ledgers snapped shut and flopped back onto the desk. "Oh!" was all she managed to squeak out.

Ollivander was watching her with something close to surprise as he carefully took the wand from her. "A silent repairing charm," he murmured with amazement as he boxed up the wand. "From a squibette!"

Nicolette blinked. "A…what?" she asked.

"Squibette," Ollivander murmured. "You're not quite a squib, but you're not a witch either."

"She most certainly is a witch!" George snapped. "And you'd better remember that before you find something more precious than your ledgers ripped to shreds."

Ollivander blinked at the Weasley Twin that was currently towering over him. He nodded curtly, having meant no harm, but certainly not wanting to be on the receiving end of any of the new WWW products that these pranksters had come up with lately. He named his price for the wand and George paid for it, his ears already beginning to match his hair. Whether he was embarrassed for snapping, defending, or both, Nicolette wasn't sure, but she wasn't about to question his kindness to her.

"Thank you so much," she told Ollivander with a small wave before Fred and Angelina steered her out the door with George following quickly behind.

"Well that was…interesting," Fred commented as they strolled back to the shop.

"Mm," Angelina agreed, casting glances back at George, who was walking behind them dazedly.

"Why did the pages fix themselves?" Nicolette asked, clutching the wand box to her chest tightly.

"The pages didn't fix themselves," Angelina told her. "_You_ fixed them." She smiled. "I'm guessing that you were probably pretty embarrassed about the books, so that was the first thing that came to your mind when you used the right wand. The wand obeyed your thoughts and put the pages back in their proper spots." She winked at Nicolette. "Lucky girl. My wand only sparked when it chose me."

Fred and George both chuckled, and Nicolette grinned.

"We should head over to the Burrow," Fred commented. "Hermione said that she would wait for us there to begin your lessons."

Nicolette nodded and hung on to George tightly as they apparated her into the Burrow's living room where she was immediately accosted by Hermione, who started exclaiming, "It's wonderful! It's wonderful!"

Nicolette faintly heard Ron and George laughing and George saying, "Come on Hermione, don't deprive me of my wife just yet."

"Oh, right," Hermione murmured, blushing slightly as she stepped away. "Sorry." She squared her shoulders. "Let's begin."

Immediately, Nicolette was shooed into the far corner of the living room, watching with a confused expression as Ron, George, Fred, and Angelina slunk quickly outside. It took only a few minutes for her to understand why as Hermione caused a pillow to change into a vase and then threw it down, telling her to repair it.

This was going to be a long day.

* * *

Ron winced as he heard the sound of breaking china, hoping to high heaven that Hermione hadn't been daft enough to use his mother's favorite set of tea cups for this lesson. "We're doomed," he told his brothers and Angelina. "She has _Hermione_ as a teacher."

George surprised himself again by snapping, "Just because _you_ didn't learn anything from Hermione doesn't mean that she won't."

Fred noticed that George never said Nicolette's name, not having heard the almost apologetic conversation between them earlier that day. He watched his brother carefully, and was pleased to see that George was now at least trying to fight the anger he was feeling. Before his eyes, George was slowly reverting back to his old self, and Fred couldn't wait for the transformation to be complete.

For all their sakes.

His thoughts were interrupted when Angelina cried out, "George! Look!"

She was pointing at his left wrist where the faint outline had been that morning. Instead, there was a thin silver line winding around his wrist, almost as though it was twining around other invisible strands. They all stared at it for a long moment before George's eyes met Fred's and he turned, disapparating right before their eyes.

Without a moment's hesitation, Fred disapparated as well, knowing that George would be apparating to the front gates of Hogwarts.

The library would offer the answers they would need.

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**A/N: Hope you enjoyed this! Please review, and Happy Easter!**


	11. Silver Protectiveness

**A/N: Sorry this has taken me so long! My crazy life doesn't seem to let me write as much as I want it to!**

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Fred tried, he really did, but he couldn't help whining. "George," he groaned. "This is like the fiftieth aisle!"

George rolled his eyes at his brother. "Stop being such a baby," he told his twin. "It's the forty-seventh."

Fred resisted the urge to stick out his tongue, figuring that such a response would put him further under the "baby" category. "Yeah, 'cause that makes it a whole lot better," he snapped instead.

George ignored him. "It must be here _somewhere_," he muttered, his fingers skimming over the hard spines of the numerous volumes.

"Can I help you, Mr. Weasley?" a voice behind them asked.

George turned quickly and found Dumbledore standing at the end of the aisle, watching them with amusement written all over his face. "Professor!" he managed to gasp out before he found himself blushing.

"Seeing as you both are in the Restricted Section, I figured that I might be of some assistance before one of the books attacks you." The humor in his voice was making George hope that the ground would open up and swallow him.

"Uh, thank you, sir," Fred managed, since George seemed incapable of answering. "Where would you suggest we look instead?"

"My office."

Both young men gulped.

Dumbledore laughed aloud at their expressions and said, "Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley, it's not a punishment. I'm simply inviting you to a place where we can comfortably talk instead of you two spending hours looking for a book that doesn't exist."

George's shoulders slumped fractionally. "Doesn't exist?" he repeated, not even questioning how Dumbledore knew what he was there looking for.

Dumbledore shook his head. "Not in books." His eyes twinkled. "I created it myself."

"Oh."

Without another word, the twins followed Dumbledore out of the library and traipsed up to Dumbledore's study, which was becoming more and more familiar to them. As they sat down, George and Fred both politely declined a lemon drop and settled back in their chairs to wait for their old professor to begin talking.

"Once the Ministry coerced me into this Marriage Law," Dumbledore explained, "I created the bond you and your wife wear on your wrists. As I told you the day you two were married, the bond will develop over time as your relationship develops." His eyes twinkled as he gazed at George. "I take it that something's transpired, since you're here."

George nodded. "Yeah."

Dumbledore rubbed his hands together. "May I see?" George offered his wrist to his professor and let Dumbledore examine it for a full minute. "Hmm, very interesting," Dumbledore murmured. "Very interesting."

"What? What is it?" George asked, worried that something had gone wrong. Perhaps that was why the line was silver and not some other color. Perhaps it was defective. Perhaps _he_ was defective!

Dumbledore gazed at him for a moment before saying, "Normally, new husbands don't acquire this color in the beginning." He turned to the bookcase next to his desk and rummaged for a particular sheet of parchment. Upon finding it, he slid it out and handed it to George. "You'll find all the colors in there."

George was about to open it when the door opened and Professor Snape billowed through the door. "Oh, it's you two," he muttered, seeing the twins.

"Professor Snape!" Fred exclaimed, sarcastically cheery. "So good to see you. It's been ages!"

"Yes," the Potions master replied snarkily, "a whole week since the last meeting. Whatever have we done with our time." He glared at them for emphasis and then turned to Dumbledore. "I need to speak with you." He cast a glance at the twins and clarified, "Alone."

George stood up and clutched the parchment tightly to his chest. "We were just going, weren't we, Fred?"

"Right you are, George," Fred answered. "Thanks for all your help, professor. You saved us a lot of time, and at least one of our hands."

Dumbledore laughed at the joke, but Snape just scowled, so Fred hastily followed George out of the professor's office. They scrambled down the steps and walked quickly through the halls, exchanging some light-hearted greetings with a few of the students that they remembered well from a couple of years ago. Fred, however, carried most of the conversations because George could only think of the parchment burning a hole in the pocket he had stuffed it in.

"You're real chatty," Fred teased sarcastically as they were practically shoved outside the Hogwarts grounds by Filch. "I could barely pull you away from that group of girls that was trying to talk to you."

"I'm married," George growled.

"Is _that_ what they call it these days?" Fred chuckled. He cut George's response off by apparating them right into the Burrow's living room. Unfortunately, since he was paying more attention to whether or not George was about to hex him, he failed to pay attention to where he was apparating them.

"Umph!" someone gasped, and only quidditch reflexes saved George from landing completely on top of them.

The other person wasn't as lucky. "Fred! Get off me! Oh, I think you broke a rib, you idiot!"

Fred peered down at Hermione, having been straddling her waist, and chirped cheerfully, "Hermione! Didn't see you there."

Hermione groaned again. "Get. Off. Now!"

George looked back down, already guessing who he had landed on, but he was completely unprepared for the sight that greeted his eyes. Wide, astonished blue eyes gazed up at him, eyes a deeper blue than his own. Her lips were parted in shock and her hands had unconsciously gripped his forearms. It seemed as though they were frozen in time as they stared at each other, their faces inches apart.

And then the spell was broken as George jerked away from Nicolette and rose, not even bothering to help her up. "I'll be over at the shop," he murmured before apparating away.

"Well that went well," Fred said dryly, helping Hermione up and gently pulling Nicolette off the floor, where she was still gazing at the place where her husband had last been. He watched Nicolette's face and couldn't help but grin covertly. The looks those two had shared were more than he could have hoped for in such a short time.

He'd have to remember to forget where he was apparating more often.

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George paced back and forth around his room, running his hands through his hair over and over again. He had been so close to her, so close to kissing her. Merlin, he had licked his lips! George let out a growl and squeezed his eyes shut. There must be something wrong with him.

The bond!

Perhaps that was it. He shoved his hand into his pocket and withdrew the parchment, his heart hammering in his chest as he unrolled it. The parchment was filled with nothing but the professor's writing and it took George a minute to scan the page, looking for the correct color. Finally, he found it, and the words there made him freeze.

_Silver: Like the knights of old in the muggle stories, this color of bond represents a protectiveness over your partner. Whether consciously or unconsciously, you seem to want what's best for your partner at all times, and will defend him or her at the slightest hint of trouble. This may or may not be love yet, but if it isn't, love is on the way._

George sank down onto the bed, his eyes staring at the page but not actually seeing it. _Ollivander's shop. Yelling at Ron._ These memories came back to him, unbidden.

It couldn't be true…could it?

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**A/N: Thanks so much for all of your reviews! I appreciate them so much! Please review this chapter as well, and thanks so much to everyone that voted for me in the March challenge. I won! :D**


	12. Tan Meekness

**A/N: Couldn't sleep last night, so I got down to business! Hope you enjoy!**

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George tapped a quill against a spare sheet of parchment. Were his hands _actually_ shaking? His hands never shook. He was always a cool, confident, collected Weasley Twin, the one that generally had a smile on his face. He had always existed in Fred's shadow, managing to extricate himself from said shadow once in a while to flirt and date pretty girls, but he was never anything _but_ confident.

Silver.

That word, that one simple color, had altered his entire physic in such a way that he could not even put words to paper. This had never happened before. True, he was not much of a poet at heart, but he had always managed to write gushy, romantic letters (even if they were prank letters) that had girls fanning themselves whilst giggling foolishly. Now, his head was swimming so badly that he could barely think properly, let alone write.

"Knock knock," someone said.

George looked up sharply, not having heard anyone come in. "Hey, Lee. How are you?"

Lee Jordan frowned, eyeing his friend up and down. "Better than you, I think." He stepped forward and lazily transfigured a chair out of a spare pencil lying around. "What's up?"

George sat back in his chair and wordlessly vanished his quill and parchment. "What makes you think there's something up?"

Lee narrowed his eyes distrustfully. "That." He pointed at George suspiciously. "You never ask me something like that, because you always know that _I_ know that you're up to something." He crossed his arms over his chest. "So start talking."

George glared down at the desk in front of him, wondering if the grains in the wood would give him some sort of clue as to what to tell his best friend. He had never lied to Lee, and the thought had never even crossed his mind. But now, as his fingers absently traced one large knot in the desk, he found himself sighing and answering hesitantly, "It's this girl."

Lee let out a laugh. "Isn't it always?" He made a show of snuggling into his seat. "Tell me, tell me."

George glared at him. "No, it's not _always_. Sometimes it's about pranks."

Lee snorted. "Don't even kid yourself. It always has something to do with girls. You and Fred are either pranking them or wooing them."

It was George's turn to snort. "Don't you know that I'm past wooing?" he asked, almost miserably, partly relieved that he had not been forced to acknowledge _which_ girl in his life that he had been writing to.

"Ah yes, the married man," Lee answered. "Thanks for the invite, by the way." He smirked sarcastically.

"Well, it was kind of sudden," George bit back defensively. "I didn't have the time to invite anyone. Heck, Ni-my wife got married with grass stains on her rear!"

Lee leaned forward, delighted by this news. "Did she? Did she indeed? Why?"

George put his head in his hands and mumbled something unintelligible.

"What?" Lee asked. "I didn't hear that."

"I said 'she fell off a broom,'" George said, raising his head off the desk.

Lee frowned for a moment and then asked cautiously, "Do I want to know why that is?"

"No."

"Okay."

George rubbed a hand over his face, irritated by his friend's easy demeanor. "Was there some reason you came, other that to rub in the fact that you didn't come to my wedding?"

Lee frowned for a moment, not used to this kind of reception from his friend. "Well, George," he teased, "I'm so happy to see you too!" When his friend didn't respond, Lee raised his eyebrows. "What's got you so tied up in a knot? Oh right, the girl. Your wife, right?"

George couldn't do anything but nod and chaff his wrist with the opposite hand's fingers. Lee was partially correct.

Lee's face suddenly morphed into a disbelieving smirk. "You're falling in love with her, aren't you?"

George sat up straight, jerking up in his seat almost violently. "No I'm not!" he cried. Wherever had Lee gotten that idea?

Lee's smirk only grew wider. "Yes you are." He waved aside George's attempt to protest. "Never mind. Actually, the real reason I came to see you was because I have a bit of a business proposition for you."

George leaned forward slightly. "Oh?" he asked. "And what might that be?"

"Get me a glass of firewhiskey and I'll tell you."

* * *

Hermione leaned against the fireplace of the Burrow and surveyed the neat row of identical vases, transfigured into line after hours of careful tortu-lessons and several missing pieces of cutlery. "It's a start."

Nicolette's shoulders drooped dejectedly. "That's it?" she asked quietly. "All that work and all I get is, 'It's a start.'?"

Hermione smiled at her impromptu student and placed a kind hand on Nicolette's shoulder. "It's a very, very good start. Now, do me a favor and transfigure everything back before you go."

Nicolette's mouth quirked into a weak smile. "Is that a hint that I need to leave?"

Hermione laughed. "Kind of. Nicolette, you need to get home to your husband. He's probably wondering where you are."

Nicolette looked down at the floor, not wanting to discuss her disagreement on the subject. He was probably thankful that she was out so late. "Yeah," was all she said.

Hermione watched her expression for a moment before pulling her into a hug. "In time," she whispered in her friend's ear, "he really will." She pulled back and smiled. "I saw the way you two looked at each other today. Don't deny it."

Nicolette said nothing because in actuality, she had nothing to say. What argument could one give when one did not even understand what had happened in the first place? She stared at the floor again for a moment and finally said, "I should be going."

Hermione smiled. "Yes, you should. You _are_ coming to my wedding on Saturday, aren't you?"

Nicolette nodded. How could she forget when she was one of only two bridesmaids? "I'm looking forward to it," she admitted. "I've never been in a wedding before. Are you?"

"What?" Hermione teased. "Been in a wedding before? Nope, I have to say, this is the first time I've gotten married!" She laughed at Nicolette's look, but then sobered. "Oliver's coming to see me tomorrow. We're going to have a lot to talk about since we've only conversed so far over owl mail." She bit her lip, a habit that Nicolette had noticed that she did quiet often, and then she grinned shyly at her new friend. "I _think_ that I can be happy with him."

Nicolette felt something drop in her stomach. Why did it have to be Hermione who was standing there, blushing and admitting that she thought that she could be happy, despite this law that was reshaping her life? Why couldn't it have been her, Nicolette, the young "muggle" who had had a wonderful career ahead of her? Why was it that she was the one stuck in a loveless marriage of only a day while Hermione stood there, rather eagerly awaiting her wedding day?

"Well good," was all she could manage in a heartfelt tone. "I'd better get home." She thought for a moment and then blushed. "How do I do that, again?"

Hermione smiled, and the gesture was almost sad, as though she somehow knew what her friend was thinking. "For now, you'd use the floo. Dumbledore will probably show you how to apparate soon, but for right now, that's not a very good idea." She motioned for Nicolette to join her by the fireplace, flicking her wand at it to enlarge it to the right size. "Step in," she ordered.

Nicolette obeyed, wrapping a borrowed cloak of Angelina's around her body tightly in an effort to hide her nervousness. She'd never done this on her own before. "Okay," she said softly. Was it her nervousness that was causing such a peculiar headache? Now that she had stopped all of her wand waving, she was starting to feel rather sick.

"Grab a bit of floo powder," Hermione ordered, not noticing the queasy look on her charge's face.

Nicolette did as she was told, reaching into a bucket shaped suspiciously like a flower pot and grabbing some of the green powder. "Right," she murmured, squinting as the light hitting her eyes seemed to intensify.

"Now say 'Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes' and throw the powder down. You'll be off, and I'll see you tomorrow."

Nicolette smiled. "Thanks Hermione." She called out Fred and George's shop and threw down the powder, watching the world turn slightly green around her before she was stumbling out into the flat, right into George's arms.

"Where have you been?" he asked, and his tone was less harsh than Nicolette had expected it to be.

She, however, could only answer with a moan.

George gave her a little shake. "N-Nicolette," he said shakily, his tongue stumbling over her name, "are you alright?"

The world swam in front of her eyes and she leaned against him heavily, barely realizing that he wasn't recoiling in disgust, he was, in fact, holding her closer. "I think I'm going to be sick," she gasped out as a shudder raced down her spine.

Before she could even process what was happening, George had lifted her up in his arms and was hastening to the bathroom. He gently set her down on the floor, holding back her long hair as she emptied the contents of her stomach into the bowl. "Did you drink anything?" he asked her anxiously. "Alcohol of any type?"

Nicolette shook her head in between retches. "No," she groaned. "I'm too young."

George frowned, and then realized that she might not have understood him, not being used to wizarding alcohol. "What about butterbeer? Did you have any butterbeer?"

"Whaterbeer?" she asked miserably.

"Apparently not," he muttered to himself. His mouth set into a grim line as he gazed at his wife. Despite his resolve to desperately hate her, he couldn't help but feel the urge to want to save her from whatever ailment was causing her to be so sick. What had happened to her at the Burrow? He closed his eyes for a moment, realizing that he was in completely over his head. In a way, Nicolette was an entirely different species than what he was used to. He had no idea how the sudden influx of magic, combined with all the different magical apparatuses she had been put through might have affected her.

After her heaving slowly abated, George _accio_'d a warm washcloth and wordlessly bathed her face. "I'm sorry," she murmured, but George shushed her, surprising himself by assuring her that whatever had happened, it wasn't her fault.

"Let's get you into bed," he whispered, picking her up again and carrying her into their bedroom. Despite her feeble protests, he undressed her, trying to tease her by telling her that it was nothing he hadn't seen already, and dressed her again in a warm pair of flannel pants and a matching top. He had barely pulled the covers up to her neck before she was asleep, her eyelashes fluttering slightly.

Before he could even register what he was doing, he bent forward and pressed a soft, quick kiss to her forehead. _"Whatever happened, please get better,"_ he amazed himself by thinking.

He couldn't believe what he was saying, doing, and thinking! Goodness, it was almost as though Angelina had never been a part of his life! He shook his head. He couldn't be feeling this way, and yet, it felt so right in its own sense.

He paused at the door, his hand on the frame as he gazed at his young wife for a moment. It was only then that he noticed the mark. With her hand pillowing her chin, it was barely noticeable, but he still saw it. A light brown, almost tan color, weaving around her wrist much the way his had. His frown deepened and he hurried out of the room, striding purposefully towards his desk where he had kept the parchment from Dumbledore.

_Tan- This light color may be associated with meekness. It is much the color of a church mouse, who is meek and scared of any sudden changes in its habitat. The partner that possesses this color has a desire to please and to love their partner, but something may be standing in the way, causing them stress and hesitancy. This color will likely molt into a deeper, richer brown as the relationship progresses._

George stared at the parchment for a moment, feeling a nagging sense of guilt. So she was trying to make things work, and he was causing her stress? Yeah, that sounded about right, considering the way he had been acting lately. He closed his eyes. Fred was right. Angelina was no longer his, and he needed to move on. He obviously had a sweet wife who was trying to make the best of things, so he resolved then and there to do the only possible thing he could do.

He would try harder.

He would stop pining after Angelina and he would learn to love his wife.

His Nicolette. No, no, no, that sounded too strange for right now, but he would try.

And in time, he would change that meek, scared band of tan into the rich mahogany it was to become.

He was sure of it. But for now, he had several things to think about, starting with Lee's proposal….

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**Hope you all enjoyed this! Thank you so much to all my reviewers, including Miss Sue, my anon. Thanks!! :D Also, right after this, I'm publishing a short little oneshot called Orange is for Fascination, so I hope you check it out!! Thank you so much for reading!**


	13. An Exotic New Species

**A/N: Thank you all for being so patient! School's been absolutely insane. Sorry if there are any errors! :P Enjoy!**

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When Nicolette opened her eyes the next morning, she found someone spooning her body, breathing quietly in her ear. She didn't need to gaze down at the tattoo on the strong wrist to know exactly who was holding her. She tried to wiggle free as carefully as possible, but George only held onto her tighter. His lips brushed her ear and Nicolette froze, her mouth opening in a silent gasp at the strange, tingling feelings that such a small, unconscious action provoked.

George groaned and shifted, pulling her tighter into his body.

Nicolette blinked, surprised that she was finding herself relaxing into his arms. She'd never felt so comfortable and, well…protected, as she was right now, warm, safe, and cocooned in her husband's arms, which was strange since she'd _never_ felt that way with George before. Ever.

Memories filtered through her mind from the night before. George holding her. George wiping her face. George undressing her carefully and putting her to bed. These memories were not fabricated. They were real, they were true, and that meant that something was already changing in their relationship.

Something was changing in George.

His breathing changed and his arms suddenly jerked away. "Oh," he said groggily. He rolled away from her and sat up, rubbing his face with his hands. "Feeling better?"

Nicolette rolled over shyly, unable to explain to herself why she missed the pressure of his hands already. "Yes," she whispered. "Do you know what happened to me?"

George shook his head. "No. What did Hermione do to you last night?"

Nicolette explained all of what had happened the night before, feeling slightly nervous as she noticed that George's brilliant blue eyes never left her face. "And then I flooed home," she told him, ending her narrative with a small shrug. "I don't understand. Why should that make me sick?"

George shook his head. "I don't know. Could this be part of what Dumbledore was talking about?"

Nicolette frowned, trying to remember just what part of "what Dumbledore was talking about" that George was referring to. "Which part?"

"The part about you needing to stay close to me. Remember?"

Nicolette furrowed her brow. There were so many new things that she was trying to comprehend, all at one time, that she could barely remember what he was talking about. "Uh, actually," she hedged.

George's face morphed into one of annoyance for a moment, and Nicolette drew back out of instinct. As soon as he saw the change in her facial features, he immediately smoothed out the expression. "No matter," he assured her, though his tone sounded slightly forced. "He warned us that because you're of a…delicate nature, you'd have to stay close to me. He promised that you'd get sick otherwise. Is it possible that spending a day away from me is too much?"

Nicolette shrugged. "I don't understand any of this. You probably understand the theory of all of this better than I do."

George looked at her for a long moment before nodding. "Probably," he said. "Why don't we pop in and ask Dumbledore what he thinks?"

Nicolette looked up sharply. "You'd go with me?" she asked, astonished.

George nodded. "You're my wife. Of course I'll come with you." He slid off the bed and extended his hand to her. "We'll shower, eat something, and then we'll go visit him right after. Sound good?"

Nicolette blinked. He was offering to help her. He was asking her opinion. She looked down at the pale brown line twisting around her wrist and bit her lip. "Sounds great," she said honestly.

He nodded towards the kitchen of the flat. "I'll go whip up some breakfast while you shower." When she just sat there, he grinned down at her, a real smile tugging eagerly at his lips. "What, are you waiting for me to join you, or something?"

"No!" Nicolette launched herself out of bed so quickly that she tripped over the blankets and had to throw her arms out to stabilize herself to keep from falling flat on her face. George's laugh rang in her ears long after the water began rushing over her body.

When she finally worked up the nerve to slip out of the bathroom, Nicolette found Fred and George joking around in the kitchen, trying to shove pieces of egg down the collars of the other's shirt. Her nervousness melted away when George smiled at her and then turned away without making a joke. He simply waved that wand of his and the eggs scattered around the floor vanished. Another wave and a plate full of bacon, eggs, and toast floated over to her place at the table. "Eat up," he ordered.

She obeyed without delay, smiling up at Fred when he winked at her. She fell on her food, surprised by how ravenous she suddenly was. She didn't even pay attention to the twins as she scarfed down her food and downed the juice that George set at her place, not even realizing that it wasn't orange juice until she had drunk the whole glass. It was only when Fred teased, "Geez Forge, did you keep her up all night or something?" that she blushed furiously and coughed.

George just grinned at him and teased back, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Nicolette was so mortified that she could only stare at them as both boys quirked smiles. She shut her eyes tightly and didn't open them again until George and Fred, still laughing, apparated her right to the front gates of Hogwarts. "After you, of course," Fred told her with a friendly wink.

Though she knew that they weren't being mean, Nicolette couldn't help but feel uncomfortable, causing her feet to carry her to the easy-to-find headmaster's office in record time. She thought she heard George calling for her to slow down, but her embarrassment was too keen for her to think of anything but getting some answers from Dumbledore.

She climbed the stairs and knocked on his office door, managing to smile when she heard Fred and George huffing behind her. Served them right. She entered when a voice inside bid her too, and then shut the door before the twins could reach it, a smile quirking at her lips when they stumbled inside moments later.

"So nice that you could join us," she said sweetly, grinning at Dumbledore, whose eyes were twinkling even more than usual.

George glared at her slightly. "Yeah," he muttered. "It's a real chore to keep up with you."

"Ah, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore interjected, "you have no excuse. Both you and Mr. Weasley played quidditch, while your wife simply studied during school."

Fred snorted. "Yeah, but we don't use our legs," he grumbled, knowing that it was a moot point.

Dumbledore and Nicolette both smiled, but it was Dumbledore that said something first. "I take it that you haven't come all this way just to discuss the merits of quidditch training, now have you?"

Nicolette shook her head. "We have more questions," she clarified.

"Ah!" Dumbledore said, leaning back in his chair. "In that case, you might as well have a lemon drop, Mrs. Weasley."

It took ten minutes for Nicolette to finish explaining all that had happened the day before, while George chimed in with important bits of information that she had missed since she was otherwise occupied. Afterwards, Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and "hmmed." "Very strange," he murmured. "Very strange indeed."

"What?" Nicolette asked anxiously.

Dumbledore was quiet for a moment, trying to judge how to best answer her question. "You are, in many ways, almost an entirely new species to us," he told her honestly. "We've never seen anyone quite like you, not even in the others that were joined to witches and wizards because of the law." His eyes twinkled as he glanced at George. "You're rather…exotic, in a way," he chortled. "And because of that, we really don't know what's going on with your body. I'm sorry to say that for now, we'll just have to wait and see what happens."

Nicolette frowned, not eager to go through the previous night all over again. "But I'm not sick," she clarified.

Dumbledore shook his head. "Not that I can tell. Perhaps it was simply an overload of magic for one day. Be careful in the future." He smiled. "I'll be watching your progress with great interest."

As kind as he was, Nicolette couldn't help but feel dejected. She was an exotic, unfamiliar species with strange things going on in her body that no one understood.

Great.

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**A/N: I hope you recognized the sarcasm in that last word. ;) Thanks so much for sticking with me. Please review!! I love hearing from you guys!**


	14. Fighting

**A/N: This chapter comes with more apologies that I can muster. I've been so busy and so stressed that I haven't gotten around to writing it. I'm so sorry everyone, but summer's here, so I will hopefully have more time to write! Hope you're still reading...  
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The days passed easily, and George found that he was able to get along better with Nicolette. They both still felt slightly awkward, but George watched over her with a protectiveness that Nicolette appreciated, especially when she came home nearly exhausted from working with Hermione, who was now married to Oliver Wood. Hermione seemed to believe that since she wasn't available more often for lessons, the lessons should be five and six hours long at a time.

George disagreed mightily.

Hermione hexed him.

That was the last argument on the subject.

Nicolette tried with all of her might to absorb everything that Hermione was trying to teach her each time they got together, but after a while, the spells, their pronunciations, and their uses slipped right out of her mind. It was at times like this that Hermione gave a rather dramatic, long-suffering sigh and demanded that they begin again. "You have to _think_," Hermione would stress. "Concentrate on what you want to do, and you'll do it. Try again."

During these lessons, Nicolette noticed that her friend seemed to be more and more agitated. Being married and still being in school seemed to be taking a toll on Hermione, but she refused to shirk either duty, no matter how much Oliver begged her to. She waved off everyone else who tried to get her to see reason, and soon, everyone stopped asking about her. However, it was Nicolette who became more agitated as well when she realized that George was hiding something from her.

She hadn't noticed it to begin with because most of his life was a mystery to her, but as she became more and more familiar with the dealings of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, she began to realize that there was something very important that he was keeping from her. George became more distant than before, spending hours debating with Fred late into the night. Every time she tried to eavesdrop on their conversations, however, there would be the faintest buzzing sound and then, the world went silent.

He was using silencing charms. On his own wife, no less!

Reason told her that he might have a perfectly good excuse. Perhaps he was planning something for Christmas holiday. Yes, that was most certainly it! But the next time Nicolette caught a glimpse of one of the conversations, Fred and George's faces looked far too grim for them to be planning any holiday cheer. It was then that she decided to get to the bottom of…whatever was going on.

She waited and waited, hoping for just the right moment to approach George. She had thought of first going to Fred, but then she realized that this was something between her and her husband alone. And so she waited some more, pushing her questions to the back of her mind when George repeatedly stumbled upstairs to the flat after work, so tired that he could barely mumble a 'hello.' Business was busier than ever as people strove to find some sort of cheerfulness in their lives during the War.

Nicolette's opportunity came in the strangest of ways, however, when she dragged herself through the floo one night after one of Hermione's impromptu sessions. She found George on the couch, reading a crumpled piece of parchment, which he hid from view as soon as he caught sight of her. With raised eyebrows, Nicolette ignored that familiar lurching in her stomach that came with flooing and crossed her arms over her chest. "Alright, spill," she ordered.

"Spill what?" George asked casually. Far too casually.

"Whatever you're keeping from me," she answered him. "Whatever's on that paper of yours."

George shook his head. "That's none of your business," he said tensely.

Nicolette bristled. "It _is_ my business!" she cried angrily. "I'm your wife! I have a right to know!"

An anger that George had not felt in quite some time reared up inside of him and he shot off the couch before he could even process the movement. With two large strides, he was standing in front of her, gripping her forearms so tightly that Nicolette winced. "You have _no_ right," he said, his voice deathly calm. "You belong to me, and what I do is none of your business." Ignoring how wrong he was, George gave her shove that sent her stumbling back against the fireplace, and then he apparated out of the flat with a loud bang.

Grief gnawed at Nicolette and her knees gave out as she sank onto the well worn rug at her feet. Everything had been going so well for the past few weeks. They had been making progress, and she had grown so used to seeing no hint of hatred in her husband's eyes that now, she was at a loss of how to deal with it. The hatred that had flashed across his eyes as he held her was something that she would not soon forget. No argument was worth that.

Even if she was indeed right.

A tear made a track down her cheek. How could this have happened?

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George had no idea where he was going when he apparated out of Nicolette's sight, so it was fortunate for him that he didn't find himself spliced or worse. Instead, his subconscious had done the work for him and he found himself standing at the bottom of the steps leading up to Lee Jordan's house. Since his mind seemed to have been made up, George ignored the nagging voice in the wee corner of his mind that warned against such a reckless idea and proceeded to climb the stairs and knock on the door.

"Come on Lee," he growled when there was no answer. "Answer the door." _"Before I change my mind,"_ his mind whispered.

The door opened, and there stood Lee. "George," he said, surprise lacing his voice.

The words momentarily stuck in George's throat as he gulped and fiddled with the parchment he still held. As though on cue, his mind brought forth memory after memory of his wife over the last few days, assaulting him with reason after reason for why this idea was such a stupid, brainless one. But instead of listening, he squared his shoulders and said, "Hi Lee. I've thought it over, and I've changed my mind. I'll do it."

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**A/N: It was longer that it looks when I typed it out, and the next one should be much longer still. Thank you guys so much for your patience. I appreciate it so much! :D**


	15. First Apparation

**A/N: Thank you guys so much for waiting. My flash drive was lost, then stolen, and so I had to rewrite the chapters all over again. My only consolation is that it came out better this time than last, so I hope you enjoy this new twist!**

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Nicolette couldn't stay in the flat. She couldn't do anything in that moment, but gaze at the spot where George had last been. As soon as her eyes began to get blurry, Nicolette pulled herself up and squeezed her eyes shut. All she wanted to do was get out of here. She wanted to get away from the memories of the pain that had just been caused.

And that's when it happened.

Her chest constricted tightly, the world around her felt like it was starting to spin, and then she felt like she was being squeezed through a tube before she found herself landing ungracefully on the cobblestones of a dimly lit street. "Ouch," she muttered after a moment of shock. Where was she? What had happened? Had she actually…apparated?

"First time apparating?" someone asked.

Nicolette jumped up faster than she could even process and was pointing her wand at the figure slumped against the far wall. "What's it to you?" she managed to get out as her mind whirled in a thousand different directions. She was…well, she didn't actually know where she was, but she was pretty sure by the looks of things that she didn't want to be here.

She was alone.

No one knew where she was.

She was in love with George Weasley.

The last realization must have been induced by fear, since she certainly had not been thinking about it two minutes ago. However, since deep down she knew that it was true, she wasn't going to fight the logical part that mentally screamed for her to call out for him, to figure out how she had apparated in the first place and do it again, or, if all else failed, to curl up into a ball so that any and all attackers couldn't kick her face in.

It was the chuckle that broke her out of her mental will-planning. Since she couldn't really see anything more than an outline, Nicolette couldn't help but frown at whoever was chuckling at her expense. "I don't find this terribly funny," she managed, flipping her hair in much the same way that she had seen Hermione flip her hair when she was offended.

"Your wand's backwards," the figure said with another chuckle.

Nicolette flushed, absolutely mortified as she quickly let the handle slide over her palm so that she could grip the proper end and turn the wand back on the chuckling shadow. "Oops." The word came out in a squeak, but she quickly tossed her hair back again and pulled herself up to her unimpressive height. "Would you kindly tell me where I am?"

"You're not a pureblood," the figure said, ignoring her request.

"N-no," Nicolette said slowly. "How did you know?"

"Aside from the glaring fact that you don't know which end of your wand is up?" the figure asked in a slightly mocking tone.

Nicolette glared. "An error that I do not intend to make again," she hissed out, working hard to not lose her temper. It would do her no good, after all, since Hermione had just begun teaching her defensive spells. At best, she might have managed an _Expelliarmus_ if she had utter concentration, which she did _not_ have at this moment.

"You can't handle a wand, you're not even wearing robes, and you have red hair, so I'm going to say that you're the new Weasel."

Nicolette glanced down at her clothes. Sure enough, she was wearing her jeans and sweater, just like a muggle. "Weasel?" she asked, confused.

"Yeah. The Weasleys. Merlin, you're thick too."

"I am not!" Nicolette shot back. "In fact, I'm quite bright. I simply don't understand all of your terminology." This was getting ridiculous.

"Ah, so you've been hanging out with Granger too, have you?"

Nicolette frowned. "You obviously haven't heard the news recently," she commented. "It's Hermione Wood now. Doesn't that make you rather obtuse as well?"

"Touché. Ah yes, poor Oliver," the figure droned. "I really should pop on over and extend my condolences."

She hated him already.

"Look, I don't care what you do, but could you tell me how to get out of here?"

She could almost hear him grin. "The same way you got in, of course."

Nicolette sighed and slid down onto the floor across from the figure so that she could keep a careful eye on him while she wallowed in her self-pity. "Great," she muttered.

The figure sat up straighter and asked, "What's your name?"

"What's yours?" she asked, deflecting the question. This was dangerous. He already knew too much about her, and in acknowledging that he was right, Nicolette had broken one of Hermione's important rules: Never let an opponent know more about you than is necessary or unavoidable.

"Oh no, I asked first," the figure tutted.

"I'd rather not say. If you haven't heard it already, then you're not likely a friend or associate of my family, so you shouldn't know it."

An outright laugh came from the shadow this time, and Nicolette was surprised at how boyish it sounded, compared to the rather cold tone otherwise. "Perhaps I was wrong about muggleborns," he mused, almost as though to himself. "Yes, I think I was. You see, I've been tossing this crazy idea around in my head for a couple of years that muggles and halfbloods aren't as bad as every pureblood believes they are." He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, and asked, "What do you think of that?"

"I think that's the first bit of sense I've heard all night," Nicolette told him candidly.

"Yes," he said slowly, talking to himself once more. "Perhaps you're right. But what would you say to someone who believes just exactly what I told you and has therefore been turned out by his parents?"

Nicolette's expression instantly softened. So that was why this stranger was here, sitting against a wall in an alley in…well, who _knew_ where!

"Well?" he asked, challenging her. "What would you say to him?"

"I'm not sure," she said carefully. "I suppose I would congratulate him on his brave decision, and I would hope that he had at least one friend that would take him in for a while until he could get back on his feet." She shrugged. "I've never had to deal with something like that before. I've only had to deal with transitioning into an entirely new world." She added an awkward laugh at the end, trying to choke out the hurt she felt at the thought of George just leaving her so abruptly.

The shadow stood. "Ah, so there's trouble in Weasley paradise," he noticed, but the statement lacked what seemed to be his normal, biting tone.

"What would you say," Nicolette started off, forcing herself not to cry, "what would you say to someone who loved a man that hated her?"

The shadow paused for a moment, and Nicolette could tell that he was actually giving careful thought to his answer. "I would say that George Weasley is even more of an idiot than I thought he was."

She let out a noise half between a laugh and a cry. "I agree," was all she said before she squared her shoulders and made the most important decision of her married life. "I'll tell you what. Since you haven't killed me, and your disposition seems rather normal, why don't you come home? You can stay on the couch, or I could get someone to, uh, tr-trai-trap-" she stumbled, searching for the word.

"Transfigure?" he supplied, once again close to laughing.

"Thank you. Transfigure. We could transfigure you a bed for you to stay as long as you need to."

For the first time, the shadow breached the understood line between them and slid out of the shadows. It was then that Nicolette saw the young man behind the voice that had already captivated her pity. "Why?" he asked. "Do you not know what I've done to mud-I mean, muggles and muggleborns? Do you know what I've done to Granger?"

"Wood," Nicolette said out of reflex. "And no. How could I? I don't even know who you are."

The boy actually arched an eyebrow, staring at her. "You don't know who I am?" he asked, as though stepping out into the light would solve every question about him.

"Nope," Nicolette told him gently, having a feeling that his world was already starting to break apart from the perfect little pureblood world he was accustomed to. "Sorry." She raised her own eyebrow and asked, "Well? Are you going to come or not?"

It took him exceptionally longer than she had expected for him to swallow his pride and nod. "Yes, thank you."

She gave him a curt nod in return. "Excellent. Now, we seem to serve each other's purpose rather well, since I am providing you with a home. In return, you will provide me with a way out of here."

The young man nodded. "And while I'm cowering in your little house, I'll teach you how to apparate."

Nicolette glared, slightly offended by the sneer. "Watch it, or you might find yourself sleeping on the floor, or better yet, outside completely."

"You'd better watch it, or you'll find yourself stuck here for quite a long time," he returned, and then gave a hollow laugh. "If you ever get out."

Nicolette looked around. "Where _is_ here?"

The boy took another step toward her, hands raised to show that he meant no harm at present. "Someplace you really don't want to be." Before she could ask any more questions, he stepped towards her again and said, "You'll need to hold on to me to apparate. Don't let go."

He took her arm, and it was only then that Nicolette noticed the emblem on his robes. She looked up to find a smirk on his face. "You're a Slytherin!" she gasped out.

The boy nodded. "And better yet, my name's Draco Malfoy."

And then he apparated them away.

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**A/N: Hope I could surprise you guys! Please review! IMPORTANT: The poll is finally up for the Love is in the Air challenge, so PLEASE head on over to the Twin Exchange profile and vote for my story Amore Tentativo. I'd really appreciate it! :D**


	16. His Name is Draco Malfoy

**A/N: So sorry that it's taken me this long. I've been really busy, and have started summer college, so bear with me!**

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_Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. His name is Draco Malfoy!_

Nicolette stumbled as soon as her feet landed back on solid ground, but she managed to stumble in the opposite direction of the man that had been holding her, a feat that she had a moment to give herself a pat on the back for before she started to feel absolutely nauseous.

_Draco Malfoy. His name is Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. His name is Draco Malfoy!_

The young man standing in front of her was currently letting his mouth curve into a wide smirk as he noticed the understanding that illuminated her eyes. "_Now_ you understand," he said, the tone of his voice changing almost immediately. "I suppose you'll want me to leave, right?"

She hated that mocking tone. Maybe because she knew that beneath it lay a young man who was truly used to not having anyone to look after or empathize with him. Maybe it was because he was so darn good at it. Whatever the reason, Nicolette met those challenging eyes and jutted chin with a mirrored expression of her own. "Don't be stupid," she snapped impatiently, moving past him to stagger into the bedroom she shared-well, had shared- with George. She didn't have the knowledge, or the willpower, to transfigure objects yet, so she would just have to do it the normal way.

The muggle way.

A pillow, a sheet, and two blankets burdened her arms by the time she returned to the front room. She set them on the coffee table, obscuring the pranking magazines that Fred and George liked to read in the hopes of find a prank or joke that they had yet to try. Placing her hands on her hips, she looked him straight in the eye and asked softly, "Why did you do it?"

Draco raised his eyebrow again. "Do what?"

That was already becoming an annoying habit with him. Nicolette wondered what would happen if she shaved his eyebrows off. Let him try to raise that eyebrow at her then!

"Why did you torment everyone at school? Why did you make their lives miserable?"

Draco snorted. "You make it sound like school's been ages ago_. Potter_ and all of his friends are still in school. Even little Miss Granger, I should say Little Miss Wood, is still there. I graduated early because my father needed my…help."

"With the Death Eaters."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement, one that Draco had not expected from her. He blinked and cleared his throat. "What?" It came out in a rather cracked tone.

Nicolette almost smiled. She grabbed the sheet and unfolded it with a snap of her wrists. "I'm not a stupid muggle," she told him calmly as she laid the sheet over the couch. "I know what's going on in this world, and I know that your father is a huge supporter of Vold-him." She shrugged and reached for one of the blankets. "All I want to know is why you did it. I think I know, though. You did it because of your mother, didn't you? Your father might have killed her if you didn't go along with his plans, right?"

With a speed that could only come from playing Quidditch for years, Draco's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist in a tight grip. "You don't know _anything_," he hissed. "And _never _talk about my mother." Nicolette tried to back away from him, her face pale and closed off as she gave a few tugs on his tight hold. Draco let his face relax into a smirk. "Am I scaring you?" He almost sounded gleeful.

Nicolette stilled for a moment, staring at him. "No," she said truthfully, and then allowed herself to smirk back at him. "Apparating made me sick, and I don't want to throw up all over you."

He let go immediately.

She turned back to the coffee table and reached for the second blanket. "I don't really understand you," she said softly, trying to control her breathing and her temper. "You claim to want to change, heck, you even let yourself be kicked out of your own home, yet you still try to fight the people that want to help you!" Her stomach roiled, but she pushed all thoughts of nausea away and took a deep breath. "Maybe it's just what you're used to, and that's why you push people away and fight so hard, but whatever the reason, when I get up in the morning, I expect you to at least be pleasant."

He said nothing, his jaw loose, and looking like it was about to come unhinged.

Nicolette walked past him, gently pushing the second blanket into his chest. "Goodnight," she said, never looking back.

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Why had he ever agreed to this? He was Draco Malfoy! Draco Malfoy never _talked_ to muggles, or muggleborns for that matter, as a Golden Rule. He had progressed over the year, refraining from calling anyone who deserved it a mudblood, but it was difficult, and he strove to avoid them whenever possible. _This_ girl was even worse in some ways. According to rumor, this was the muggle that had discovered her magic accidentally. Accidentally!

Who did that?

And how dare she talk to him that way?

Only, she was right. And that annoyed him much more than the fact that he was sleeping on the Weasel Twins couch. Without taking off his clothes, he sank down onto the couch and pulled the blankets around his body, sighing with relief. He'd been sitting against that wall for a day and a half, and this couch was _so_ much better.

The only aspect that severely dampened this newly-found blissful state was the idea that his hostess was currently about to be sick. Draco tossed and turned, thinking back to the blessedly few times when his mother had been so sick that she hadn't been able to cast a proper healing charm on herself and he had had to do it. Posh. Let Miss I-don't-know-why-you-do-it figure it out for herself.

However, since she couldn't even figure out which end of her wand was up, Draco highly doubted that she had learned healing charms yet. Merlin, he was going soft.

With a great heave, he pulled himself up and slid his wand out of his pocket. The last thing he needed to do right now was to scare her, so he quietly crept into the core of the apartment, looking to the left and the right in the hope of finding her bedroom easily. He did, and even found her door slightly ajar, which made prying it open easier. As he peered inside, Draco saw that she was still tossing and turning, but she didn't seem to have heard him, so he mentally spoke the healing charm and slipped out again before she could catch him.

"_Yes,"_ he thought as he settled back onto the couch, _"Definitely going soft."_

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**A/N: Hope you all liked this! Please review, and thank you so much for sticking with me! :D**_  
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	17. George is a Idiot

**A/N: I know that this chapter has taken me far, far too long to write, and for that, I sincerely apologize. College has started up recently, and I find that I do not have near enough time to devote to chapter stories, so I am going to wrap up the ones that I have, and then focus on oneshots for a while. Hopefully, you've stuck with me so far, so thank you, and enjoy the chapter!**

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The clattering of pots and the delicious smell of bacon woke Draco the next morning, sending his senses momentarily into overdrive. Where was he? What had happened the night before? Was this _thing_ over his body trying to pass for an actual blanket? It was _certainly_ not his regular silk sheets!

There was a rustle behind him, and out of habit and self-preservation, Draco tensed and slid his hand down to touch his wand. Good, it was still there, so chances were great that he was in relatively unhostile territory. Now, did he pretend that he was sleeping, or not?

"Good morning," a small voice said above his head. "Did you sleep well?"

As soon as Draco heard her voice, everything from the night before came back in a rush. Nicolette. Ah yes…then he was safe, definitely ready for breakfast, and experiencing paramount relief that this was not his sheet. "Mmhmm," was all he said, stretching for a moment before sitting up and looking around. So this was the Weasel residence. Ugh. It looked even worse in daylight.

"Bathroom's down the hall and breakfast's ready," Nicolette told him, not looking alarmed or offended at his less-than-impressed perusal. Draco stood, holding out the sheet for her to fold while he was in the loo. Nicolette, however, just waved him off with a sweet smile. "You can make everything up after breakfast," she told him.

And with that, she walked away. From him. Draco Malfoy.

For a moment, Draco's anger flared, and his old instincts to retaliate rose to the surface. His hand twitched against the smooth wood of his wand, now tucked into his pants, before he quelled the strong urge to hex this sprite of a girl-hostess into the next millennium. Instead, he dropped the sheet from his clenched fist, not caring whether it landed on the couch or not (since he was going to be making it up anyway) and stalked down the hall to the bathroom. "Women," he muttered.

Once the door was closed, Draco let out a puff of breath, a smile momentarily forming on his lips. She was a hothead waiting to happen. All she needed was more confidence, and George Weasley would have a spitfire on his hands. And boy, was Draco Malfoy becoming increasing apt to help her discover that feisty edge.

And extort it.

Even if it meant that it might bite him in the butt one day.

When he returned to the living room, Nicolette had already set out the plates and was spooning bacon and eggs onto them. When she turned and caught sight of Draco standing in the doorway, she smiled. "You're just in time," she said as she placed the second plate down on the table. "What would you like to drink?"

Draco seated himself and asked, "Do you have any coffee?"

Nicolette nodded and turned toward the cupboards above her head to grab a cup. "Coffee I can do," she assured him, pouring the black liquid and setting it in front of him before sitting down to her own plate.

They ate in silence for a while, the only sounds in the room being the scrape and clatter of the silverware to break the monotony. Draco, however, couldn't help but ask, "So…why isn't your hubby here with us? It can't be because of your cooking."

Recognizing his comment as a veiled compliment, Nicolette let the cooking remark slide and proceeded to push her eggs around on her plate. Even the thought of George was making her stomach roil, and she knew that if he didn't come home soon, the bond would make her sicker than she might be able to recover from. And really, how much should she tell Draco? How much _could_ she tell him? "I wasn't George's first choice," she began carefully. "He was practically engaged to someone else, and I'm a muggle."

Draco raised an eyebrow. The Weasel Twin had been engaged? Poor girl. "But you're not completely muggle," he clarified.

Nicolette shook her head. "Our…wedding night pulled my magic to the surface, so to speak. I kind of bonded with George that night."

Draco almost laughed aloud. "So, the Weas-George actually bedded you, did he?" Nicolette's face fell and she winced infinitesimally, but it was enough for Draco to notice, and in doing so, he realized two things: She had been a virgin, and, "He wasn't gentle."

It wasn't a question, and Nicolette knew that she wasn't supposed to answer. "It doesn't matter," she said harshly, grabbing her empty plate and carrying it to the sink. "My magic is what matters. Nothing else."

As she stood over the sink, she heard the scrape of a chair being pushed back, and then the deliberate footsteps that followed. "Now why don't I believe that?" Draco asked lowly, his breath warm and strangely comforting against the delicate skin of her ear. She didn't answer him, worried that if she opened her mouth, the truth would spill out. "You love him, don't you?"

Tears sprang into Nicolette's eyes, and there was nothing she could do to stop them. She whirled to face him, finding herself trapped between the sink and Draco's tall, muscular body. "Yes," she choked out, ignoring the tears that were now rolling annoyingly down her nose. "Yes, I love him. I don't really know why, because I rarely see much happiness from him, but when I see it, I fall more and more in love with him, and it hurts!"

"Why?" he asked, trying to egg her on.

"Because he hates me! He'll never love me the way I love him!"

Before Draco could say another word, a "pop" sounded in the living room and George appeared in the kitchen. The moment his eyes landed on the scene in front of him, Nicolette knew what this must look like. With Draco pinning her to the sink, she appeared to have moved on _very_ quickly. And by the wild anger in George's eyes, that was exactly what he thought had happened. He swore, his hand whipping out his wand and pointing it at Draco.

Draco, however, was faster still, and blasted George back into the living room with a wordless spell. Before George could recover, or Nicolette could jump in and stop him, Draco cast both a Body-Binding spell as well as a silencing charm, much to George's obvious irritation, since his face turned a shade very similar to his hair color. "Now then," Draco said calmly, although Nicolette could tell that he was irritated underneath, "let's have a moment of silence while I make something _very_ clear to you." He gazed down at George disdainfully. "I'll use small words too, so that you can understand me."

"Draco," Nicolette rebuffed.

"Sorry. We'll skip the small words. Actually, Nicolette, why don't you go back to your room. This is a bit more of a man to...man conversation."

By the air Draco addressed her, Nicolette knew that it was pointless to refuse. "Don't hurt him," she admonished before she left.

Draco waited until he heard the door to her bedroom close before he turned his attention back on the glaring bundle in front of him. "You," he said disdainfully, "are an absolute idiot. You know that, right? You have a young woman here who is in no way hard to look at, she's yours for eternity, and why, I don't know, but she's in love with you. What part of that situation makes you so upset that you have to become such a prat?"

George glared even harder, but said nothing. Or perhaps that was because of the silencing charm….

Draco took a deep breath. How much could he tell this Weasel brother without damaging his own pride? "Your wife was kind enough to take me in last night when my own family kicked me out. In case you didn't hear, I joined the Potter Brigade. So there, you can stop trying to kill me. Now, listen very closely, in case you didn't hear it before. _Your wife loves you._ Don't screw this up, Weasley."

Draco took a step away from George's body and released the spells, his muscles tensed in case George started shooting off hexes. George, however, shakily rose to his feet, looking almost…contrite? No, not possible. "I got it," he mumbled.

"Good," Draco said with a nod. "She's down that little hallway, when you want to apologize." He smiled humorlessly, knowing he was annoying George by appearing so cheerful.

Instead of jumping at the chance to make amends, George pushed past Draco and summoned a small trunk with clothes and personal belongings in it. "I'm only here to pick up a few things," he said stubbornly.

As George prepared to apparate, Draco shook his head and looked up at the taller man with a scathing glare of distaste. "You really are a blood traitor, Weasel." But this time, he meant it in an entirely different way.

His words rang in George's ears all the way to the front door of Lee's safe house: location unknown to the wizarding population.

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**A/N: I really hope that you guys enjoyed this, especially those that wanted that George/Draco confrontation. Hope I didn't disappoint you! Please review and let me know what you think! :D**


	18. Apparating and Epiphanies

**A/N: There are not enough words in the English language to use to apologize for not writing this chapter sooner. The only thing I can say in my defense is that I started college and I have been so swamped since the last time I updated. For those of you that have stuck with me, and have not lost hope, I hope that this chapter can, in some way, make up for the neglect. :P**

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Draco couldn't believe it. He had thought that the Weasel Twins actually had some brains, unlike their younger brother, since they had been responsible for some rather brilliant pranks. He had heard that George Weasley was even the more sensitive brother.

Merlin, this world was full of liars!

Draco heard the sound of footsteps and dreaded what was coming next. "Draco?"

He turned around to find Nicolette standing in the doorway, gazing at him worriedly. "He's gone," he told her, and felt more loathing towards her husband when Draco saw her shoulders slump infinitesimally. "He said he'd be back, though."

Wait, what? Where had that come from?

Nicolette immediately brightened. "Really? Oh good!"

Brilliant. Way to encourage the girl, Draco.

"Yeah, but what we really need to do while we're waiting for him to come 'round again is learn to apparate," Draco added, intent on distracting her as much as possible from his oral blunder. He grinned. "After all, I did promise to teach you to apparate."

Nicolette rallied herself and smiled back at her new flat mate. "That you did."

* * *

"-so the idea is that we're going to spread the truth about what's really happening," Lee told George as they sat next to the fire, sipping firewhiskey. "Fred's thinking about it, but he's getting married soon, so that might put a damper on our plans for a while."

George , however, was gazing at the flames, watching them ignite the wood and burn it until there was nothing left but ashes. It felt like his marriage. Nicolette was like the wood, solid, but pliable, willing to be shaped into whatever was necessary. However, George felt like he was the fire, ready to burn all of her hard work and flexibility into the ground, squeezing the life out of her until there was nothing left but ashes and dust.

He hated himself.

And Draco Malfoy of all people! What in Merlin's name was he doing there? And where had Nicolette even met him? Even now, George could remember the absolute hate that had welled up in his body, igniting every nerve ending when he had seen Draco pressing _his_ wife into the counter. He cracked his knuckles, thinking about breaking Malfoy's neck, and wondered back to his little display a few hours ago. Malfoy had said that Nicolette loved him. He couldn't be serious, could he? There was absolutely no reason for Nicolette to love him after all that he had put her through. He had hurt her, yelled at her, made her life miserable, and worst of all now, he had left her.

Lee's fingers snapping in front of his face startled George out of his musings. "Anyone there?" his friend asked.

George sighed and closed his eyes tiredly. "Sorry, mate," he said. "I'm just tired. What did you say?"

Lee, however, was smart enough to know that that was not the reason for George's lack of attention, and said so. "The George I know would still be playing pranks, tired or not." He sat back in his chair and asked, "It's her, isn't it?"

"You know, Lee," George said, irritated, "She _does_ have a name. Use it."

"So I'm right?" Lee asked. "It's about Nicolette?"

George huffed, and then groaned. He knew that Lee wouldn't give this up until he had said something. "She's only part of it."

"Well what's the other part?"

George glared momentarily at his friend. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a nosy bugger?"

Lee, however, was neither offended, nor put off. He just grinned. "Many times. Mostly by Angelina when I wanted to know why she wouldn't go out with me."

Her name was the last straw for George and he put his head in his hands, speaking aloud more to himself than to Lee. "I can't do this. It's only been a week, and already I'm beginning to feel like Angelina's slipping away from my memory. We dated for three years! How can I just give her up in a week? To my brother, of all people?" He stood from his chair, barely remembering to set his firewhiskey down before he drove his fist into the wall. "Merlin, Lee! I can't handle this! I love Angelina, I do, but after everything that's happened, I think I love _her_."

"Who?" Lee asked, ignoring George's wince as he shook out his now-aching hand. He wanted to hear George actually say her name.

George was silent for a moment, staring at his bloodied knuckles without moving to grab his wand to heal himself. He felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He loved her. He didn't know how, he didn't really know why, and he knew that there was no way that she should return his love after everything he had done, but he couldn't seem to stop himself from feeling this way, or trying her name out. "_Nicolette_."

Lee smirked and threw back the rest of his firewhiskey. "Well _finally_!" he said. "Now that you've realized how much of a prat you've been, pay attention so that we can get our work done. After that, you can go and sweep your lady love off her feet."

George made his way back to his chair, but looked cautiously at Lee for a moment before he asked, "How did this happen?"

Lee almost rolled his eyes. "Do you seriously not know why Nicolette was sent to you?"

"Because she was part of the Marriage Law," George guessed.

Lee shook his head. "Wrong. She wasn't just picked out of a hat for you, she was given to you because of who she is, and who you are." When George looked at him uncomprehendingly, Lee tried a different tactic. "Remember when we were sorted, and the Sorting Hat decided where we should go by what it saw in our minds and feelings?" George nodded. "Well, from what I've heard, the Marriage Law works the same way. Dumbledore would be daft to let the Ministry just pick two people and pair them together. They had to be matched for a reason."

"Right…" George agreed slowly.

"So you were paired with Nicolette because Dumbledore knew, somehow, that she would be better for you than Angelina. Angelina was meant for Fred. It's natural for you to still love Angie, even to wish that she was the one you had married instead of Nicolette, but that doesn't mean that you should fight what you feel for your wife. Angie's obviously trying to make things work with Fred, and they'll probably be happily married soon, so you need to get over yourself, stop being such a prat, and learn to adore your wife." Lee winked. "From what I've seen, you seem pretty deep already."

George stroked the skin of his wrist, tracing his thumb lightly over the rose colored thread that was beginning to show, blossoming slowly like the love he was beginning to let in.

* * *

"I don't think I can do this," Nicolette told Draco for the fifth time as she shifted from foot to foot, trying to mentally prepare herself to try to apparate.

"Of course you can," Draco told her curtly, slightly annoyed. Good grief, she could stand up to him, but she couldn't apparate? "You've done it already, so just do it again!"

"But I didn't know what I was doing!" Nicolette rebutted.

Draco rolled his eyes and heaved another sigh, more for show than out of actual annoyance. "You just have to remember the three D's."

"Remind me again," Nicolette requested, having been so nervous that she had forgotten most of what Draco had been telling her about apparation.

"Destination, Determination, and Deliberation," Draco said, ticking them off on his fingers. "You need to know where you're going, be determined that you're going to get there, and do so without hast but with deliberation."

Nicolette thought for a moment. "Wouldn't it just be better to get a license for apparating and then learn how to do it? I thought they had those at the Ministry."

"Only if you'd like to wait forever for the paperwork," Draco told her with a smirk.

Nicolette shrugged. "I suppose you're right. It's kind of like getting your driver's license."

"You're what?"

She shook her head. "Never mind. Destination, Determination, and Deliberation, right?"

Draco nodded. "Hold on to my arm again and try. You'll have to do all of the work, but I'll be there to help you in case anything goes wrong."

Nicolette stilled abruptly, obviously having missed that part of Draco's lecture while she thought about George. "Wait, what happens if something goes wrong?"

Brilliant. When was he going to learn to keep his mouth shut around her? "Nothing. Most people vomit their first time. You just seem to get lost. So, in case that happens, I want to be able to guide you back."

"Alright," she said softly, and then, while trying to remember all three D's, she apparated them right into the middle of Diagon Alley.

Draco steadied her as she wobbled on her feet, looking around and nodding calmly. "Alright. Not exactly the place I was thinking, but this'll do nicely." He checked her over, searching for any signs of splinching, and then grinned. "I would have thought that you'd apparate us to the Burrow, but you never cease to surprise me, do you?"

Nicolette shrugged. "I guess not. I've only been here once for my wand. I've just heard Ginny and Hermione talking about it a lot, and it's the first thing that popped into my head."

Draco looked around and took her hand with a friendly squeeze, beginning to move them through the crowds. "Well, if this is your first time actually shopping in Diagon Alley, then we'd better introduce you to Fortescue's."

"What's that?"

Draco grinned back at her as he pulled her down the lane. "Only the best ice cream in the Wizarding World."

* * *

Nicolette didn't stumble as much when Draco had her apparate them back to the flat. Instead, she laughed as her feet touched the ground once more. "That's amazing! And Draco, that was indeed the best ice cream ever."

He grinned down at her. "I told you."

Nicolette nodded and gravely assured him, "I'll never disbelieve you again."

Draco saw her peering around the apartment, no doubt searching for George, and he felt that this was the best time to tell her his suspicions about the sicknesses she had been experiencing during most of her chances to use magic. "Nicolette," he began, catching her attention. "I-there's something I want to tell you."

"Should I sit down?" she teased, raising an eyebrow when she realized that he wasn't joking anymore.

"I think that you're-"

He never got further along in his sentence, because at that moment, Draco heard the most unmistakable laugh reverberate throughout the flat. Nicolette snapped her head up at the same time that Draco pushed her behind him, obviously not having anticipated someone else being in her home. Draco knew that there was no way to escape. The floo network would have obviously been disconnected, and since the shadow was moving towards them with a wand pointed right at Draco's heart, there was no way for him to apparate them.

"What have we here?" the shadow said, and the voice only confirmed Draco's suspicion, and made his heart sink even more.

"Draco?" Nicolette whispered. "Who is it?"

"Yes, Draco," the shadow cackled. "Tell the little mudblood who I am!" His wand was gone, flying across the length of the living room before Draco could move his hand all the way back.

"Nicolette Weasley," he said coldly, trying to infuse her with a calmness he himself didn't feel, "this is my Aunt Bellatrix."

His aunt cackled again, and just by the look in her eyes, Draco knew that they were dead.

All _three_ of them.

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**A/N: And I will end with that, and a little hint hint there! Again, I'm so sorry, but I will try to update sooner as soon as I get over the hump of finals. Thank you all who have stuck with me, I love you so much! :D**


	19. Ducklifors

**A/N: Hey guys! Hope you all had a great Christmas, and I wish you a very happy New Year! Thank you for sticking with me for so long, and here's the next chapter!**

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"Point is, people, don't get lulled into a false sense of security, thinking he's out of the country. Maybe he is, maybe he isn't, but the fact remains he can move faster than Severus Snape confronted with shampoo when he wants to, so don't count on him being a long way away if you're planning to take any risks. I never thought I'd hear myself say it, but safety first!"

Lee raised an eyebrow at George and smirked, eyeing the hole in the side of George's head with derision. George had taken the place of Fred on PotterWatch almost like they were one person instead of being twins. He sounded just like Fred, and Lee was beyond pleased that he would have George in hiding with him until Fred got married and had a couple of weeks of wedded bliss. Then, George would go back to his dear, sweet wife who was far too good for him, and grovel until she let him love her the way she should have been loved in the first place.

If she ever let him get that far and didn't hex his scrawny rear into the next century.

Lee grinned at the thought of his generally self-assured friend brought to his knees by his tiny little wife.

George sat back and cast a spell to switch off the broadcast. "There we go," he said tiredly. "One more day down."

Lee nodded, knowing that George was not only thinking about his friends, who had begun the search for the Horcruxes just recently, but also that he was one day closer to seeing Nicolette again. For a guy that had not appreciated what he had when he lived with his wife, George was becoming the poster child for "Absence makes the heart grow fonder." Lee had known that George's feelings were going to develop at some point, but it had started sooner than he had expected, and was rapidly growing from there.

"What do you think they're doing at home right now?" George asked, breaking Lee's train of thought.

Lee shrugged. "Don't know. From what you've told me, it sounds like Malfoy's watching over Nicolette, so you shouldn't feel too worried."

As upset as he was that Malfoy had bested him at drawing his wand, and had then proceeded to give him the most unmanly dressing down he had ever witnessed, George had to admit that he had seemed rather protective of Nicolette. And if she really loved him, then she wouldn't be looking at Malfoy as anything more than a friend, right? Though, with all that he had put her through, George wouldn't be surprised to find that she might have moved on.

He really needed to find out where she had picked Malfoy up in the first place….

"You're right," he said with a nod of his head. "I'm sure Malfoy has it all under control."

* * *

Draco flew against the bricks in the fireplace so hard he thought he was going to leave a dent. He had never, _ever_ felt so out of control in his life. Without his wand to protect him, he was completely helpless to the advances of his Aunt Bellatrix, and she knew it.

And she was going to kill him because he had walked out on her family. He had been so stupid, letting himself be lulled into a false sense of security by thinking that she would never find him. He should have known better. As long as it was the Dark Lord's will, she would never stop hunting him.

"Get up, Drakey," she hissed, ignoring Nicolette for the time being. When Draco only groaned from his face-down position on the hearth, she growled, "Get up!"

Draco lifted his head, shaking pieces of the fireplace bricks out of his eyes and hair, barely noticing that Nicolette was scooting herself further and further into the corner of the room to his left, attempting to disappear from Bellatrix's sight. He noticed that her hand was creeping down to her wand, but he wasn't sure what exactly she thought she was going to do, considering the fact that she still wasn't all that knowledgeable with defensive spells.

Somehow, he pulled himself up to his elbows, and then managed to get to his knees, but Draco knew immediately that his efforts were in vain as his aunt blasted him to the other side of the room. He bit his lip hard, drawing blood, as his back connected with the wall and his felt one of his ribs break.

He would _not_ cry out. He would be strong. She would only make it worse on him if he screamed in pain the way he wanted to do so badly.

"The Dark Lord isn't pleased, young Draco," Bellatrix cackled. "You've made him quite mad, and now I have to kill you." She attempted to sound remorseful, but failed miserably, her excitement clouding her tone.

"Shame, isn't…it?" Draco ground out, trying to see if Nicolette had succeeded but not make it obvious to his aunt.

She didn't like that.

The coffee table splintered as Draco's body flew over it, and he tensed when he landed at Nicolette's feet. If he was close to her, there was no way she could pull her wand in time. And yet, there was nothing he could do, since Bellatrix was already stalking towards them once more. "Excellent," she practically purred. "Two in one."

Later, Draco would never be able to explain exactly what happened, or where that spell came from, but as he threw his body over Nicolette's, she raised her wand and cried, "_Ducklifors_!"

With barely a gasp of protest, his aunt was gone and a black duck fluttered around in her place, squawking angrily and scattering feathers all over the carpet like a maniac with mange. Draco froze in shock, staring blinkingly at his aunt in disbelief. Slowly, he managed to turn and stare at Nicolette, who was looking down at the irate duck with the exact same expression on her face, and asked, "Where on Merlin's green earth did you come up with that spell?"

Nicolette just stared at the duck for a moment before she answered. "I haven't a clue," she admitted. "It just popped into my head." She was breathing heavily, as though she had run a marathon, and Draco realized that the stress was too much for her and she was running on adrenaline alone.

"You need to sit down," he told her, ignoring the sharp pounding in his head as he gripped her upper arm and tried to lead her around the fluttering duck to the couch.

"I'm fine," she tried to assure him.

"No, you're not," Draco bit out, "so just shut up and sit down."

Nicolette wisely did what she was told.

Draco hobbled slightly over to where his wand had landed during the tussle with his aunt, and narrowly avoided a generous nip in the fingers when he tried to grab it from under the angry bird. "Now, now, Aunt Bellatrix," he scolded, suddenly finding the humor in his aunt's current state, "none of that clucking and fussing. It's not going to do you any good."

With an easy flick, vanished her, hopefully to the Ministry of Magic where they could decide what to do with her, and turned back to the young woman in his care. He noticed that the shock was beginning to catch up with Nicolette and that she had begun shaking. He conjured a blanket and slung it around her shoulders, seating himself next to her. "Are you alright?" he asked, and then mentally kicked himself for asking such a cliché question. Of course she bloody well wasn't alright!

"I'm fine," Nicolette said with another shiver, and then clamped her lips together before Draco could hear the chattering of her teeth. "You?"

Draco shrugged noncommittally, opting to find his old, carefree bad-boy self somewhere beneath the screaming pain in his joints. "Nothing a few healing charms and some firewhiskey can't cure."

Nicolette rolled her eyes. "So…not so well, right?"

"I'll be fine." He hadn't meant for the words to come out so clipped and sharp, but they did and he was saddened by that, for some reason. He turned and glanced at Nicolette out of the corner of his eye, biting back all of his pride as he said, "I owe you my life, again. Thank you."

Nicolette stared at him, realizing in that split second just how much of a blow to his pride that was. "You saved me from a lot more," she told him fairly. "We're even."

He didn't say anything. He didn't think he _could_ say anything.

They sat that way for at least a couple of hours, letting the ordeal become a strange nightmare in their minds, letting the realness of the situation seep away until only the mess in the living room was left. "We'd best get this cleaned up," Nicolette finally said, struggling to her feet.

Draco stood with her and shook his head. "I'll do it. Why don't you go get some sleep?"

Nicolette shook her head. "I won't be able to sleep for a while after all that. How about you clean up and then we'll go out for dinner. I don't really feel like making anything right now."

Draco nodded, satisfied with their compromise.

He thought she might have forgotten their conversation. He thought he might not have to tell her after everything that had just happened, but Nicolette surprised him once again. Just as she was leaving the room, she turned suddenly and asked, "What was it you wanted to tell me?"

Draco gulped. He knew just by the curious look in her eyes that she wouldn't give it up until he had told her everything he suspected. "Can we talk about it later?"

Nicolette, however, picked up on his reluctance and shook her head. "I want to hear it now."

Merlin, did he always sound that petulant when he wanted something?

"I-I think that you…I mean that Weasley…oh bugger, I think you're pregnant," he finally blurted out.

It was a good thing that he had learned a levitating charm during his Hogwarts years, because Draco used it to carry the unconscious Nicolette to her bed, knowing that as soon as he gave her a Pepper Up Potion, she would have tons of questions for him.

He just hoped that he could answer them all. After all, he wasn't quite sure what to do now. He had thought for a few minutes that Bellatrix would kill all three of them, him, Nicolette, and the baby, but now he would actually have to look after her until the Weasel Twin came back.

He hoped that George would drag himself back home soon. He had absolutely no idea how to deal with pregnant women.

Draco Malfoy had never had such an out-of-control day in all his life!

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**A/N: Hope you all liked the surprise, though I know some of you thought it was coming. ;) And yes, Ducklifors is a real spell, look it up! ;) Thanks for reading!**


	20. Baby Books

**A/N: So...I really don't have an excuse for you guys. Life's been crazy over this last year and it's going to get crazier, so I'm sorry, but my writing had to be put on hold. I didn't want it to be a half-hearted effort. I hope whoever's still reading this story enjoys this next chapter, and I think there will be one or two more before the end. :)**

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George pressed his forehead against the wall, sighing heavily. He couldn't take this much longer. The bond between them was making it difficult to be away from Nicolette for so long, and his job was still not done. Fred was still away with his lady love, leaving George to report all the depressing news of the war. Was it ever going to end? Were the names of the fallen, the wounded, and the missing ever going to slow? To abate?

Was there ever going to be justice for all of those wizards and witches lost, remembered by only their names? He was too tired. To miserable and desperate. To unwilling to stay a moment longer without the woman that had been nothing but good to him.

Whether it was the bond or his true feelings, George felt like he couldn't spend another minute without Nicolette.

….

And he felt like that every single day.

Sure, it was probably the bond, in part, but when George stopped to think about the mess he had made, he realized that his wife was a beautiful, wonderful woman that he had done nothing but hate since she had arrived, all because she was not _his_ Angelina. When he had really stopped to think about the few attributes he knew about his wife, he asked himself aloud if he had always been this stupid. She was truly a saint to put up with him, even for the short amount of time that she had, and he knew that he would go back to her on his knees in the hope that she would still have him when he came home. Sure, they would always have to live together, but what kind of life would they have if they couldn't stand each other?

He traced his fingers over the light brown line around his wrist, intertwining with the silver line he had come to know as his knight in shining armor line. He might have been able to lie to himself for a while on this long vacation away from his wife, but the magical bond between them wouldn't. He was starting to love her and care for her, and he could only hope that the tan line he remembered encircling her wrist had darkened just like his had.

He honestly didn't understand where all of his emotions were coming from, or why they had started surfacing when they did. His only explanation was their bond. He hadn't known her that long before he had abruptly left, but George kept recalling different moments of their time together, little things he didn't even remember before his mind brought them back up. Little things that made her seem so incredibly beautiful and sweet to him now.

And so he began the letter.

_Nicolette,_

_I can't tell you how much I regret everything you've seen of me since you came into the wizarding world. I've been selfish and angry and a complete idiot the entire time you've known me and I've taken it out on you. Merlin, I've been worse than Ron! (You might not understand that yet, but don't worry, you will soon enough.)_

_I don't know what else to say to you, other than to tell you how sorry I am. I hope that when I come home, we can find some way to start again. Feel free to beat me in whatever way you see fit. It's the very least I can do for you!_

George squinted at the parchment, critically examining each word. It was far from his best work, but a more eloquent way of expressing his feelings to the wife he barely knew was evading him at the moment. She was so like a stranger to him, this woman who was his wife. A stranger, and yet he dreamed of her every night now. A stranger, and he felt like he wanted to be by her side every moment.

"Definitely the bond," he muttered as he returned to the work he was planning out for tonight's broadcast.

* * *

There was no stopping her. Dear Merlin, she was a mental case. Draco watched Nicolette as she poured over her third charm book, her face creased with a deep frown. The same frown that had been stuck between her brows for the last three days. Frankly, he was getting bored sitting on the couch watching her…and Draco Malfoy simply did _not_ get bored. "That frown's going to get stuck there, and then what will happen when George comes home?" he asked lazily, making a big show of stretching out and popping his back.

Nicolette's eyes snapped up to meet his for a moment, saw the look on his face, and the frown momentarily relaxed into the tired humor he'd come to expect from his tiny benefactress. "Well, at least George and I will match most of the time."

Draco laughed and pulled himself up. "Come on. Let's go out somewhere."

"What?"

"Yeah, let's go do something. We can even go to Diagon Alley and go shopping for the baby, if you want." Draco winced as soon as the words were out of his mouth and he saw Nicolette smile. He'd said too much.

"Draco," she said sweetly, "that's so sweet! You _do_ care!"

Draco rolled his eyes and pretended not to enjoy the teasing banter. It came too naturally to them anymore. If he wasn't careful, he'd start thinking _he_ was the one she belonged to. But no, that was ungrateful Weasel #4…or was he #5? Didn't matter. All that mattered was making sure that those friend boundaries stayed very firmly in place before he actually started to…feel something. "Whatever. Are we going or not? I don't think I can take another one of your baby charm books." He shook his head and grimaced again. "Never should've bought those for you."

Nicolette just grinned and hurried back to her room to grab her jacket. She promised herself that she wouldn't buy anything, since she had very little money at all and George had seemed to forget to tell the goblins at Gringott's about her before he had left. But…she could look. And she could dream. This little one growing inside of her had not been conceived in love, but oh she loved him or her with all her heart already.

They flooed to Diagon Alley this time, a more unpleasant experience than apparating, in Nicolette's opinion. However, Draco complained so much about her safety and the safety of the baby-"wouldn't want it coming out looking like that Ron Weasel"-that she finally agreed and spent five minutes of her time in Diagon Alley sneezing up all of the floo powder that had gotten up her nose. Nicolette had thought that Draco would shy away from all of the witches and wizards that seemed to always populate Diagon Alley, or that he would at least shy away from looking too friendly with her, but he never did. He always walked right next to her and whenever she spoke, he tilted his head down to hear her better. To anyone else who didn't know their story, they probably looked like a couple, and from what Nicolette had heard from Draco about the wizarding press, she was surprised that there wasn't already some scandal linked to them.

One would have thought that the baby was actually Draco's. Despite his disdain for shopping, he dragged Nicolette to all different stores, looking at baby clothes, baby toys, charmed play pens, and baby bottle that heated themselves to the perfect temperature….and Nicolette had a sneaking suspicion that Draco had gone behind her back and purchased one of the baby rattles that was charmed to dance and shake on its own. When they finally finished shopping and flooed back home, Nicolette was exhausted.

Draco hesitated only a moment before giving her a gentle shove towards her room. "Go. I'll…charm the dishes to wash up."

Nicolette smiled. "But you don't know that charm," she said.

Draco gave her another nudge. "Don't worry about it. Just go. You're exhausted."

And so she went. And just as she drifted off, she could have sworn she heard the familiar 'pop' of someone apparating into her home….


End file.
